ONE  OF  THE 
VISCONTI 


EVA  W-BRODHEAD 


mim 


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ONE  OF  THE  VISCONT1 


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BY 


EVA   WILDER  BRODHEAD 

Author  of  "Diana's  Li-very,"  "An  Earthly  Paragon, 
' '  Ministers  of  Grace  " 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK,  1896 


Copyright,  1896,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


TROW  DIRECTORY 

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ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 


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ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 


SCARCELY  any  one  had  expected  mail  at 
Gibraltar.  Indeed,  the  post-bag,  which  had 
gone  ashore  filled  to  its  utmost  limit,  had 
come  aboard  lean  and  limp  enough  to  sug- 
gest entire  emptiness.  The  ship  for  several 
moments  had  been  in  motion.  People  were 
resigning  themselves  anew  to  deck-chairs 
and  rugs,  or  leaning  on  the  rails  for  a  last 
look  at  the  fortress,  when  the  attention  of 
those  who  sat  about  the  main  doorway  was 
rather  suddenly  taken  by  the  appearance  on 
the  high  threshold  of  a  steward  with  a 
large  violet-tinted  envelope  in  his  fat  red 
hand.  Everybody  who  could  see  the  en- 
closure felt  at  once  a  stir  of  lively  interest. 


4  ONE   OF  THE  VISCONTI 

There  was  a  movement,  an  exclamation,  a 
growing  murmur  of  curiosity  and  surmise. 
Something  rather  like  impatience  even  be- 
gan to  develop  in  the  faces  of  the  nearer 
passengers,  as  the  steward,  stolidly  fixed 
in  the  doorway,  set  himself  to  a  slow  and 
heedful  study  of  the  address,  now  and  then 
casting  a  mild,  German  eye  up  and  down 
the  thronged  deck.  Finally  they  saw  him 
nod  twice  to  himself  in  a  reassuring  manner. 
He  had  caught  sight,  far  forward,  of  a  man, 
who,  with  a  gray  coat  thrown  across  his 
shoulder  in  the  fashion  of  a  mantle,  stood 
gazing  at  the  stony  rise. 

He  was  a  young  man  to  whose  sharp, 
dark  face,  large-nosed  and  thin-lipped,  a 
pair  of  very  light  hazel  eyes  and  a  crop  of 
somewhat  bushy  black  hair  contributed  a 
distinctly  unusual  look.  Even  his  common- 
place fore-and-aft  cap  did  not  entirely  do 
away  with  a  certain  suggestion  about  him 
of  something  which  might  perhaps  be  called 
out-of-date  rather  than  picturesque.  The 
very  animation  of  his  attitude  as  he  stood 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  5 

draped  in  the  long  coat,  with  his  chin  lifted 
and  fingers  lightly  touching  the  guard-rail, 
bore  a  hint  of  times  outworn,  of  the  South, 
of  Henry  Clay  and  forensic  eloquence  and 
impassioned  beliefs  and  hot  political  issues. 
A  slight  tremor  shook  the  corners   of  his 
shaven  lip  as  he  looked  back  at  the  sullen 
rock,  the  bright  blue  waters,  and  the  little 
Spanish  town,  which,  like  a  stroke  of  chalk 
on  a  ground  of  indigo,  lay  opposite  those 
frowning  heights.     Behind   the  low  houses 
of  the   hamlet — a   mere   drift    of   bleached 
bones  across  the  bay — all  the  rippling  hills 
were  fading  in   the  freshness  of  the   early 
light.     Every  instant  softened   the  outlines 
of  the   half-dozen   men-of-war  in  the  har- 
bor.    The  white  ensign  floating  from  one 
withdrawing  mast,  showed  barely  a  trace  of 
its  rosy  cross  :  a  length  of  bunting  beyond 
it,  marked  with  deep  blue,  seemed  now  only 
to  shadow  some  faint  reflection  of  the  sea  or 
sky.     Distance  was  blurring  everything.    In- 
numerable gulls  which   had  surrounded  the 
steamer  during  its  hour  in  port  could  still 


6  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

be  seen  whitening  the  bay  with  dim,  dip- 
ping flights ;  but  the  shrill  cries  of  the  yel- 
low-footed host  came  more  and  more  ob- 
scurely, mingled  with  the  faint,  far  fifing  of 
some  ordinance  in  a  war-ship  off  the  mole. 

The  man  in  the  fore-and-aft  cap  turned 
sharply  as  the  steward,  pausing  at  his  elbow, 
addressed  him. 

"  For  me  ?  "  he  asked,  regarding  the  pur- 
plish packet.  The  steward  smiled  the  pa- 
ternal smile  common  to  stewards. 

"  So  it  seems !  "  he  said.  "  That  is  your 
name,  hein  ? ' ' 

"I  believe  so,"  smiled  Cabell.  Then, 
scanning  the  angular  handwriting  with  a 
growing  sense  of  familiarity,  he  added,  "  It's 
all  right,  Max,"  but  in  a  less  interested  tone, 
for  he  had  begun  to  be  sure  that  the  letter 
was  from  Leilia. 

The  thought  of  Leilia  was  disquieting 
and  unwelcome.  During  the  year  that  was 
now  lapsing  to  an  end,  Cabell  had  more 
than  once  let  his  mind  drift  from  weighty 
matters  connected  with  his  practice  of  the 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  7 

law,  to  vague  but  bitter  speculations  upon 
Leilia  and  Leilia's  ways,  and  the  probable 
effect  of  Leilia's  actions  upon  the  life  and 
character  of  her  husband.  It  was  these 
probable  effects  which  gave  Cabell  concern. 
Regarding  Leilia,  he  felt  merely  a  general 
reprobation  which  her  protracted  sojourn 
abroad  had  merely  made  a  little  more  defi- 
nite. Whether  there  was  any  actual  point 
of  variance  between  his  cousin  and  the  man 
she  had  married,  Cabell  did  not  pretend  to 
know.  His  mediation  had  not  been  asked, 
assuredly,  and  he  often  told  himself,  angrily 
and  vainly,  that  there  was  something  mor- 
ally officious  in  his  continual  worrying  over 
Fanning's  supposed  grievances. 

Fanning  himself  had  never  said  that  any- 
thing was  wrong  in  his  household.  During 
the  first  year  of  Leilia's  absence,  she  in  her 
letters,  and  Fanning  in  his  talks  with  Ca- 
bell, were  always  speaking  regretfully  of  the 
separation  enforced  upon  them  by  their  de- 
sire of  giving  Burbridge  such  advantages  as 
his  superior  talents  seemed  to  demand.  Bur- 


8  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

bridge  had  been  three  years  old  when  he  be- 
gan those  foreign  experiences  which  his  par- 
ents fondly  agreed  in  believing  necessary  to 
his  development.  He  was  nearly  seven  now, 
and  yet  Leilia's  return  home  was  as  far  as 
ever  from  accomplishment. 

"It's  like  this,"  Fanning  had  been  used 
to  say  at  first.  "It's  like  this,  Dick!  " 
And  pocketing  his  big  hands,  and  fixing  his 
profoundly  honest  eyes  on  Cabell,  he  would 
add,  "  that  boy  of  ours  is  as  smart  as  a 
whip.  Really,  now  !  I'm  not  led  away  by 
parental  fondness.  He's  sharp  as  a  tack. 
The  way  he's  picking  up  French  over  there 
is  amazing.  Why,  I  tell  you  I  was  stunned, 
positively  stunned  when  I  was  over  in  June. 
Couldn't  catch  a  word,  not  a  word — he 
chatters  it  off  so  fast !  Now,  me — you  re- 
member how  I  always  flunked  the  languages  ? 
— yes,  had  no  turn  for  'em  at  all.  Chil- 
dren, now,  they  pick  things  up  without  an 
effort.  Leilia  says  that  another  six  months 
or  so  will  fix  matters  in  his  mind  securely 
enough  to  make  her  feel  justified  in  bringing 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  9 

him  home.  Between  you  and  me,  Dick,  I 
hope  so.  I  miss  them  like  the  very  deuce  ! 
Of  course  I  don't  say  a  word;  but  this 
hanging  round  hotels  and  clubs  don't  suit 
me  at  all.  I  don't  know  why.  Seems  to 
strike  other  fellows  about  right.  I  suppose 
I  can  stand  it  awhile  longer.  In  fact,  I've 
got  to.  I  should  feel  like  a  hound  if  I  in- 
sisted on  their  leaving  Paris  just  when  Bur's 
on  the  point  of  getting  things  fixed  in  his 
little  noddle. ' ' 

It  was  only  in  the  first  year  of  his  loneli- 
ness, however,  that  Fanning  had  talked  in 
this  way.  During  the  progress  of  the  sec- 
ond year  he  said  little  more  of  his  family 
than  that  every  one  was  well;  and  in  the 
third  and  following  year,  unless  directly 
questioned,  he  never  spoke  at  all  of  Leilia 
or  his  boy. 

In  these  later  times,  Cabell,  occasionally 
running  up  to  Cincinnati  on  affairs  of  his 
own,  had  not  failed  to  observe  the  very 
great  change  in  his  old  friend's  manner. 
Formerly,  at  sight  of  him  on  the  office  thresh- 


10  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

old,  Fanning  had  been  accustomed  to  spring 
from  his  littered  desk,  and,  overturning  any 
chair  or  waste-basket  in  his  way,  to  stride 
across  the  room  and  clasp  Cabell  by  the 
hand  and  shoulder  in  a  vociferous  outburst 
of  welcome.  Nowadays,  when  Cabell  went 
down  to  the  murky  river  region  where  the 
iron-works  of  which  Fanning  was  senior 
partner  massed  its  smoky  walls,  he  was 
quite  sure  beforehand  of  being  greeted  with 
nothing  more  than  a  quiet  friendliness.  All 
the  old  boyish  enthusiasm  had  left  Fanning. 
He  would  say  as  usual,  "  Hello,  Dick  !  glad 
to  see  you,  old  man."  But  his  tone  rang 
empty,  and  his  rough  head  and  square, 
loose  frame  seemed  as  if  invested  with  a 
weariness  which  made  an  aspect  of  warm 
cordiality  no  longer  easy. 

Fanning  was  a  plain  man  with  a  hint  of 
dulness  in  his  glance,  a  touch  of  heaviness  in 
the  soft  modelling  of  his  large  features.  He 
looked  as  if  his  nature  was  one  to  be  easily 
understood  and  easily  moved.  Yet  there  was 
in  him  a  kind  of  simple  dignity  which  made 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  II 

it  rather  hard  even  for  his  best  friend  to 
think  of  soliciting  a  withheld  confidence. 

"Besides,"  said  Cabell  to  himself,  "I 
am  the  last  man  to  expect  to  be  asked  to 
condole  with  him  on  the  unhappiness  of  his 
marriage.  I  warned  him  how  it  would  be 
— or  tried  to."  And  his  mind  reverted  to 
the  summer  in  which  Fanning  had  met 
Leilia  and  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  in  so 
heedless  and  headlong  a  fashion. 

It  was  the  summer  which  had  ended  their 
college  life,  and  Cabell  had  brought  Fan- 
ning home  with  him  for  a  fortnight's  visit 
in  the  old  Kentucky  town,  never  dreaming 
that  his  slow,  staid,  sensible  friend  might 
by  any  chance  spend  a  moment's  thought 
on  Leilia.  It  is  always  difficult  for  a  man 
to  realize  that  a  woman  whom  he  himself 
does  not  in  the  least  admire,  may  have  a 
potent  charm  for  some  one  whose  intelli- 
gence he  respects.  Leilia  was  clever  enough 
and  not  without  a  kind  of  prettiness ;  but 
she  had  been  since  her  orphaned  childhood 
an  inmate  of  Judge  Cabell's  house,  and  Ca- 


12  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

bell,  having  been  privileged  to  grow  up  in 
close  companionship  with  his  cousin,  had 
not  been,  even  as  a  boy,  blinded  by  her 
graces  of  mind  or  person  to  the  fact  of 
what  he  considered  a  rarely  selfish  and  un- 
certain disposition. 

"Poor  little  Leilia  !  "  Cabell's  mother 
would  sigh,  after  some  gentle  adjuration  to 
her  son  upon  the  necessity  of  exercising  pa- 
tience toward  those  whose  natural  traits 
seem  calculated  most  severely  to  try  this 
virtue,  "  she  has  not  been  properly  disci- 
plined. For  all  my  strength  of  character,  I 
must  admit  that  I  am  weak  with  Leilia.  I 
don't  seem  to  be  able  to  deny  her  anything. 
She  is  my  dead  brother's  child,  Dick.  I 
can't  forget  that,  even  when  she  seems  ca- 
pricious. And  when  no  one  crosses  her  she 
is  really  very  sweet." 

Leilia  happened  to  be  in  one  of  these 
sweet  and  tractable  humors  at  the  time  of 
Fanning's  visit;  but  Cabell  had  no  suspi- 
cion of  his  friend's  danger  until  later  in  the 
summer.  Then,  upon  a  memorable  day  in 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  13 

August,  Fanning  rather  unexpectedly  ap- 
peared in  Nicholasville,  and,  having  taken 
Cabell  aside,  seized  his  hand  and  stammered 
out,  quite  pale  with  emotion,  that  Leilia  had 
promised  to  be  his  wife. 

"The  judge  has  consented  and  your 
mother  also,"  added  he,  breathlessly.  "  Say, 
Dick! — I — I  don't  deserve  such  happiness. 
I  can  hardly  understand  it.  I'm  over- 
come." 

Cabell  was  also  overcome.  He  felt 
stunned  and  aghast.  Fanning  was  by  no 
means  the  sort  of  man  he  had  imagined  Lei- 
lia would  fancy.  Her  ideal  of  ardor  and 
elegance  had  nothing  in  common  with 
Tanning's  proportions.  Remembering  the 
coldness  and  calculation  which  he  had  al- 
ways attributed  to  his  cousin,  Cabell  felt 
sure  that  the  considerable  estate  which  Fan- 
ning's  father  had  left  him  might  not  be 
without  its  effect  in  constraining  Leilia's 
acquiescence.  He  turned  pale  at  the 
thought,  and  Fanning  saw  the  change  in  his 
thin,  dark  face. 


14  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

"Dick!"  he  gasped  in  an  anguish  of 
surmise,  "don't  tell — for  God's  sake  don't 
tell  me  that  my  happiness  is  built  on  the 
ruins  of  any  hope  of  yours  !  Oh,  if  you  love 

her  too "  He  staggered,  throwing  up 

a  hand  as  if  in  appeal  to  heaven  that  this 
thing  might  not  be.  Cabell  stared.  His 
comprehension  of  the  other's  thought  was 
not  immediate,  but  suddenly  he  understood. 

"  What !  "  he  cried,  shaken  and  amazed. 
"I? — to  care  for  a  girl  like  that — cold, 
shallow,  soulless  ?  ' '  He  arrested  himself 
in  a  breath.  "I'm  ashamed,"  he  went  on, 
"ashamed  to  have  spoken  so — so  sharply. 
But  I — you  see  I've  known  her  always,  Jim  ! 
If  I  thought  she'd  make  you  happy — but 
I— I'm  afraid " 

Fanning  had  turned  a  little,  and  was 
looking  composedly  down  the  street.  Two 
or  three  new,  smart  houses  projected  them- 
selves on  the  view,  but  most  of  the  buildings 
in  sight  were  old,  and  a  few  had  pillared  gal- 
leries and  little  old-fashioned  side-lights  fram- 
ing the  doors.  Toward  the  end  of  the  street 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  15 

the  court-house  showed  itself  in  a  thicket  of 
trees.  Outside  its  enclosure  a  group  of  little 
negroes  were  playing  about  the  town  pump, 
which,  in  the  distance,  displayed  the  mossy 
curb  of  its  rotting  trough  and  the  spick- 
and-span  newness  of  its  iron  handles  and 
railings. 

Fanning  seemed  to  be  regarding  the  ob- 
jects in  range  of  the  law-office  window  ; 
when  he  finally  faced  around  there  was 
neither  anger  nor  sorrow  in  the  lines  of  his 
large  mouth. 

"  We  are  to  be  married  in  the  spring," 
he  said,  simply ;  and  Cabell  knew  that,  as  to 
himself,  he  had  spoken  to  no  other  purpose 
than  to  lessen  the  esteem  in  which  Fanning 
held  him. 

Some  fugitive  recollection  of  that  morn- 
ing in  the  little  corner  building  which  had 
then  been  the  judge's  office,  and  was  now 
his  own,  was  wandering  in  Cabell's  mind  as 
he  recalled  his  eyes  from  the  vanishing  fort- 
ress to  the  letter,  half  opened  in  his  hand. 
The  sheet  was  dated  at  Algiers,  he  found 


1 6  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

upon  unfolding  it,  and  Leilia  addressed  him 
as  her  dearest  cousin. 

"Jim  has  just  written  me,"  she  said, 
"  that  you  and  your  mother  are  on  your  way 
to  Italy.  I  need  not  try  to  tell  you  how 
glad  I  am  to  think  of  so  soon  seeing  you 
and  dear  Aunt  Virginia.  Of  course  I  am 
grieved  to  know  that  it  is  her  failing  health 
which  induces  you  to  make  the  journey. 
But  Naples  is  so  lovely  ! — it  will  do  her 
worlds  of  good.  I  have  numbers  of  charm- 
ing friends  there.  As  you  know,  I  spend  a 
part  of  each  winter  in  Naples,  and  it  really 
seems  more  like  home  to  me  than  Paris. 
Burbridge  has  always  had  a  delicate  throat, 
and  a  southern  air  benefits  him  greatly. 
Generally  he  is  quite  another  child  in  Italy; 
this  year,  however,  he  has  not  seemed  to  im- 
prove as  rapidly  as  usual,  and  it  is  on  his  ac- 
count that  I  have  been  spending  a  few  weeks 
in  Algiers.  What  I  am  particularly  writ- 
ing to  say  is  that  your  steamer  stops  in  this 
port,  and  that  we  are  going  to  join  you  and 
travel  to  Naples  in  your  care.  I  hope  we  shall 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  17 

not  prove  a  serious  charge,  dear  cousin !  I 
forgot  to  say,  though  it  is  rather  an  important 
circumstance,  that  I  have  with  me  a  friend 
of  whom  I  am  very  fond.  She  is  a  member 
of  one  of  the  very  oldest  Neapolitan  fami- 
lies— in  short,  when  I  tell  you  that  she  is 
one  of  the  Visconti,  I  need  say  nothing  fur- 
ther. I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  know  her. 
She  is  deeply  interested  in  America — and  I 
can  tell  her  so  little !  I  seem  to  have  for- 
gotten everything  !  " 

Leilia  added  the  usual  compliments,  and 
Cabell,  having  deciphered  the  last  drawling 
line,  pocketed  the  letter,  and  went  to  find 
his  mother  and  inform  her  of  the  tidings. 


II 


THE  young  woman  who  was  sitting  beside 
Mrs.  Cabell  in  a  sunny  corner  of  the  deck, 
having  watched  the  steward's  progress  with 
.JLeilia's  letter,  said,  in  an  accent  of  politely 
restrained  interest,  "  I  think  that  important- 
looking  message  is  for  your  son,  Mrs.  Ca- 
bell. He  is  certainly  opening  it — though 
not  with  impassioned  eagerness." 

Mrs.  Cabell  lifted  her  head  from  her  cush- 
ions in  a  flutter  of  curiosity.  She  was  well 
on  in  years  and  very  white  and  fragile  in  ap- 
pearance, with  hazel  eyes  like  those  of  her 
son,  and  a  quantity  of  soft  drab  hair  which 
was  combed  into  puffs  at  each  temple. 
These  smooth  puffs  looked  as  if  only  their 
small  shell  combs  kept  them  from  escaping 
in  bunches  of  sentimental  ringlets  such  as 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  19 

droop  over  the  ears  of  swan-throated  ladies 
in  portraits  of  an  earlier  time. 

' '  You  see  how  composedly  he  is  reading 
it,"  added  the  younger  woman,  with  a 
bright  smile  on  her  dark  little  face.  "  Yet 
it  is  certainly  a  woman's  letter.  That  lilac 
tone  is  positive  proof!  " 

She  began  to  laugh  at  the  mild  anxiety 
which  manifested  itself  in  her  companion's 
face. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  very  selfish,"  admitted 
Mrs.  Cabell,  "  for  I  often  feel  that  it  will 
cost  me  a  pang  to  give  my  son  up.  Of 
course  he  will  marry.  I  want  he  should 
marry  —  some  time.  But  since  the  judge 
died  I've  hoped  it  wouldn't  be  soon." 

Mrs.  Cabell  had  a  sweet,  thin  voice  and 
she  spoke  with  a  sort  of  plaintive  breathless- 
ness.  "  I  know  I  ought  not  to  feel  as  I  do. 
I  ought  to  encourage  Richard  to  go  out 
more  and  not  bury  himself  completely  in  his 
business.  I  ought  not  to  be  glad  that  he  spends 
most  of  his  evenings  at  home,  and  that  as  yet 
he  has  never  seemed  to  be  specially  attentive 


20  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

to  any  particular  gyrl.  Of  course,"  inter- 
posed Mrs.  Cabell,  thoughtfully,  "there  was 
Anna  Bedell.  Pore  Anna  Bedell !"  She 
shook  her  head  so  sadly  that  Miss  McClaren 
felt  impelled  to  ask,  "  Did  she  die?  " 

"She  married,"  said  Mrs.  Cabell,  with 
a  tragic  intonation.  She  seemed  about  to 
add  something,  but  arrested  herself  with  a 
significant  gesture;  and  Miss  McClaren 
observed  that  Cabell  was  threading  the 
thronged  deck  apparently  on  his  way  to 
their  corner,  pausing  now  and  then  to  speak 
to  an  acquaintance.  Despite  the  intimation 
of  reserve  in  his  expression,  his  air  was 
cheerful  enough  to  convince  her  that  Anna 
Bedell's  marriage  had  not  laid  his  life  alto- 
gether waste  and  empty ;  and  smiling  a  lit- 
tle she  abstracted  herself  in  a  book  while 
the  young  man  imparted  his  news.  It  was 
not  easy,  however,  for  her  to  avoid  catch- 
ing the  gist  of  his  words,  or  to  be  insensible 
of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Cabell,  in  listening,  was 
becoming  pale  and  disconcerted. 

"  So  soon  !  "  murmured  the  older  woman. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  21 

"Of  course  I  am  glad  we're  going  to  have 
Leilia  and  little  Bur  with  us.  But  this 
other ! — this  Visconti  person  !  I  am  dis- 
turbed. I  admit  that  I  am  disturbed. 
You  know  why,  Richard.  You  know  that 
I  hoped  not  to  be  brought  into  associa- 
tion with  any  one  of  this  nationality.  You 
know  what  reason  I  have  to  abhor  the 
Italian  character.  I  shall  try,  of  course,  to 
be  courteous  to  this  friend  of  Leilia's.  But 
it  will  not  be  easy.  I  am  naturally  sincere. 
I  have  very  strong  qualities,  Richard.  I 
have  often  regretted  being  so  forcible.  I 
fear  that  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  con- 
ceal my  instinctive  distrust  and — and  dis- 
like." 

Rather  to  Miss  McClaren's  surprise,  Ca- 
bell  began  to  laugh. 

"  Mother  !  "  he  said,  "  mother  !  are  you 
going  to  let  yourself  be  swamped  in  such  a 
prejudice?  Why,  you've  never  known  an 
Italian  in  your  life,  dear  little  lady  !  " 

"  I  know  of  them,  Dick." 

He   laughed    again,    appealing    to   Miss 


22  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

McClaren.  "Fancy,"  he  said,  "that  all 
this  fervor  of  detestation  arises  from  the 
circumstance  that  some  years  ago  one  of 
our  townswomen  married  a  Roman  gentle- 
man  " 

"  Hardly  a  gentleman,  Richard." 

"  Well  then,  a  prince  !  or  was  he  a  count, 
or  a  duke  ?  a  titled  personage  who  did  not, 
according  to  Nicholasville  standards,  prove 
a  model  husband.  Oh,  not  in  the  least ! 
There  is,  unhappily,  no  accepted  national 
code  upon  the  duties  of  husbands ;  and  the 
prince  and  Anna  Bedell  seem  to  have  been 
completely  at  variance  on  these  points.  The 
prince  followed  his  own  views,  it  appears ; 
and  the  result  has  been  to  impress  upon  his 
wife's  family  and  all  her  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances, a  deep,  deadly  kind  of  belief 
in  the  viciousness  of  Italians  generally. ' ' 

He  paused,  unpocketing  a  hand  with 
which  to  dramatize  a  further  statement ;  but 
his  mother,  sitting  very  erect,  pointed  a  fin- 
ger like  an  ivory  bodkin  and  protested. 

"  I  am  grieved,  Dick,   that  you  should 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  23 

tell  this  mournful  story  with  an  air  of 
lightness  !  You  particularly,  who  were  once 
so  fond  of  Anna." 

Cabell  speculated, 

"  Was  I  fond  of  Anna?" 

"  Fond  !  Weren't  you  always  saving  your 
money  against  Valentine's  Day  ?  Weren't 
you  always  lending  her  your  pony  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  yes  !  now  that  you  recall  it.  I 
must  have  been  about  eleven  when  I  suf- 
fered most  from  the  effects  of  my  passion. 
She  had  other  admirers,  if  I  remember,  and 
I  was  early  a  prey  to  jealous  torments." 

"She  had  indeed  other  admirers,"  in- 
sisted Mrs.  Cabell,  severely  eying  the  spec- 
tral blueness  of  the  African  coast.  "  I 
don't  suppose  there  was  ever  a  prettier  gyrl 
raised  in  Jessamine  County,  Miss  McClaren. 
Her  father  made  his  money  in  tobacco,  and 
their  home,  some  miles  out  of  town,  is 
lovely.  Mrs.  Bedell  often  says  now  that  if 
they'd  only  been  content  to  stay  in  it,  all 
their  misfortune  might  have  been  avoid- 
ed. Anna  was  an  only  daughter,  you  see, 


24  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

and  they  were  ambitious  for  her  and  took 
her  abroad  to  finish  her  education,  and 
that's  how  it  all  happened.  For  in  Rome 
she  met  this  Count  Orsini,  and  presently 
we  heard  what  a  splendid  marriage  Anna 
had  made,  and  the  Kentucky  papers  were 
full  of  the  count's  family  and  estates,  and 
the  Bedells  were  as  proud  as  peacocks. 
And  after  that,  from  time  to  time,  we 
learned  how  much  Anna  was  admired,  and 
how  the  king,  or  was  it  the  queen  ? — had 
called  her  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Italy. 
She  certainly  was  mighty  pretty  ! — ihew/u't- 
est  thing  ! — and  her  color  was  something  to 
marvel  at.  And  her  disposition  was  lovely, 
too.  Interested  in  church-work  from  her 
childhood.  She  wasn't  like  you,  Miss 
McClaren ' ' 

Miss  McClaren  started.  "  Don't  hurt  my 
feelings!  "  she  besought. 

"  I  mean,"  explained  Mrs.  Cabell,  hastily, 
"  that  she  wasn't  exactly  clever.  She 
could  never  have  written  about  woman's  en- 
franchisement, or  lectured,  or  made,  as  you 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  25 

are  doing,  a  comparative  study  of— of  the 
condition  of  women ' ' 

—  "in  Southern  Europe,"  said  Miss 
McClaren,  coming  to  her  relief. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Cabell.  "  I 
should  have  recalled  it  presently.  A  very 
noble  work,  I  am  sure — very  noble.  Anna 
couldn't  have  carried  out  any  such — er — en- 
terprise. But  she  was  the  most  angelic 
creature !  The  judge  used  to  say  that  by 
marrying  a  foreigner  she  had  secured  to  her- 
self the  widest  opportunities  for  exercising 
all  the  celestial  virtues  she  might  possess. 
And  so  it  seemed  in  the  end.  For  about 
six  years  ago  word  came  that  she  was  dead 
— only  twenty,  and  dead  !  And  then  Mrs. 
Bedell  came  home ;  she'd  been  with  Anna 
at  the  last ;  and  we  found  that  instead  of 
leading  a  life  all  beauty  and  grandeur  the 
poor  child  had  suffered  everything  in  the 
way  of  neglect  and  cruelty.  I  cannot  go 
over  the  details  of  the  count's  conduct," 
said  Mrs.  Cabell,  in  a  stammering  fashion. 
"  But  his  actions  were  reprehensible  to  the 


26  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

last  degree.  And  when  Anna's  eyes  were 
finally  opened  to — to  the  kind  of  man  he 
was  and  the  kind  of  life  he  led,  she  took  her 
baby  in  her  arms  and  went  and  told  him  she 
was  going  back  to  America.  Mrs.  Bedell 
weeps  bitterly  to  this  day  when  she  tells  how 
the  count  laughed  at  Anna  and  informed  her 
that  it  was  no  fault  of  his  if  life  in  the 
world's  capitals  lacked  the  patriarchal  sim- 
plicity of  rustic  hamlets.  He  said  that  he 
had  never  pretended  to  be  cumbered  with 
mild  domestic  virtues,  and  that  he  must 
ask  her  to  remember  that  she  had  married 
a  nobleman  and  not  an  American  sheep- 
herder.  He  added  that  she  might  return  to 
her  wilderness  if  she  liked,  but  that  his  son 
was  an  Orsini  and  would  remain  in  Rome." 

"Well,  mother?" 

"  I  am  always  overcome  to  think  of  that 
interview,  Dick! — So  of  course  Anna  stayed 
in  Rome,  too.  Stayed  there  in  that  gloomy 
dungeon  of  a  palace  till  she  died.  They 
called  it  a  decline.  The  count,  so  Mrs. 
Bedell  says,  was  in  Vienna  at  the  time,  spend- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  27 

ing  Anna's  fortune  in  a  princely  way."  Her 
voice  lapsed  again  in  the  sound  of  martial 
trumpeting  which  echoed  now  along  the 
decks  in  token  of  the  luncheon  hour. 

"  I  haven't  much  sympathy  with  girls  who 
marry  foreigners,"  commented  Miss  Mc- 
Claren,  rising.  "Marriage  without  racial 
confusion  is  problematical  enough  to  my 
mind.  I  shouldn't  despair,  Mrs.  Cabell ! 
Perhaps  the  Visconti  lady  won't  be  just  like 
the  count.  And  only  think  how  useful  she 
will  be  to  me  !  I've  never  known  but  one 
woman  of  that  nation  ;  she  is  the  wife  of  a 
hurdy-gurdy  man  and  very  amiable.  But 
though  I've  questioned  her  considerably 
through  the  basement  window,  I've  never 
been  able  to  find  out  exactly  how  her  coun- 
trywomen regard  the  struggle  for  liberty  in 
which  their  sisters  are  everywhere  engaged." 
She  concluded,  turning  to  Cabell  with  one 
of  her  sudden  little  imperative  gestures, 
"  Remember  !  — you  are  to  assist  me  in  lay- 
ing hold  of  the  Visconti  lady  as  soon  as  she 
comes  aboard  !  ' ' 


28  ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI 

"Oh,  I  promise!"  said  Cabell,  "only 
too  gladly. ' ' 

Some  recollection  of  his  acquiescence 
struck  lightly  through  his  mind  upon  the 
morning  when  certain  dim  lines  of  blue  along 
the  southern  horizon  began  to  awaken  on 
shipboard  the  animation  which  foretells  ap- 
proaching land.  For  an  hour  or  two  these 
indefinite  azure  streaks  hung  vague  and 
diaphanous  upon  the  margin  of  the  sea ;  but 
as  the  sun  rose  higher,  density  and  color  were 
added  to  the  distance,  and  a  reach  of  far 
hills  and  valleys  momently  took  form  against 
the  pallor  of  the  sky.  As  the  headlands 
lifted  and  lengthened,  those  who  from  deck 
watched  the  changes  of  the  faint,  mysterious 
shore  could  see  upon  it,  here  and  there,  dots 
and  dashes  of  white  that  might  be  villages, 
while  patches  of  rich  shadow  defined  the  hol- 
lows in  which  the  hamlets  nestled.  The  sea 
itself  was  wonderfully  blue,  and  the  ship  ap- 
peared to  rest  upon  it  without  motion  ;  yet, 
from  a  green  height  that  sheered  directly 
from  the  glancing  depths  of  the  Mediterra- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  29 

nean,  the  oval  summit  of  a  mosque  rounded 
suddenly  into  view,  swelling  like  a  great 
white  flower  upon  the  dazzling  sky.  Then, 
in  a  moment,  the  harbor  opened;  and 
straight  above  it  rose  the  city,  tier  on  tier 
of  colorless,  sharply  outlined  houses  whose 
lime-like  walls  wore  a  crisp,  friable  look  in 
the  brightness  of  the  sun. 

Just  beyond  the  circle  of  the  bay  the  gra- 
cious Moorish  arch  reduplicated  itself  in 
numberless  low  scallops,  forming  shadowy 
stone  arcades  on  which  a  street  seemed  to  lift 
itself  and  stride  away  from  the  sea  to  the 
palm-tufted  heights  above.  Over  the  water 
rolled  a  dull  thunder  of  cannons,  and  a  turn 
of  the  shore  brought  into  sight  the  black 
shark -shapes  of  several  ironclads,  around 
which  smoke  was  rising  white  and  soft. 

A  smart  yacht  in  the  offing  floated  the 
stars  and  stripes,  and  hard  by  the  stone  curb- 
ing of  the  sea  rode  a  ship  festooned  from  bow 
to  stern  with  endless  twists  of  gay  bunting, 
with  flags  and  streamers  and  pennants  that 
unfolded  radiantly  in  the  breeze  and  dyed 


30  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

the  water  all  about  in  scarlet  and  purple  and 
yellow. 

"  Are  you  going  ashore?  "  asked  an  ac- 
quaintance of  Cabell's,  stopping  beside  him. 
He  was  a  tall  man  with  weary  eyes  and  a 
lax,  silken  beard,  which  he  had  the  habit  of 
languidly  stroking. 

"I  am  thinking  of  it,"  admitted  Cabell. 
"And  you?" 

"Oh,  I!"  breathed  Mr.  Dodd  as  if 
rather  startled.  "  Really,  no.  I've  been 
in  Algiers  no  end  of  times,  don't  you 
know !  It's  very  tiresome  to  reflect  that 
one  has  been  everywhere  oftener  than  one 
cares  to  recall.  Travel  is  a  deadly  bore. 
But  one  can't  stay  at  home,  really !  One 
has  got  to  do  something.  Yet  there  is  ab- 
solutely nothing  to  do."  He  added,  in  a 
depressed  way:  "This  is  my  forty-eighth 
passage,  you  know." 

Cabell  began  to  meditate.  "  Every  man 
on  board  seems  to  have  spent  most  of  his 
time  on  the  high  seas,"  he  commented.  "  I 
didn't  know  there  were  so  many  Americans 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  31 

who  had  money  and  time  for  incessant  voy- 
aging. And  all  of  them  appear  to  have  im- 
bibed, through  these  adventurings,  a  mild 
contempt  for  their  native  land.  That  is 
rather  bad,  isn't  it?  " 

"Bad?  Oh,  no,"  protested  Mr.  Dodd, 
fastening  his  lustreless  glance  on  the  fleet  of 
little  boats  approaching  the  ship.  "  I  should 
say  it  was  rather  promising,  don't  you 
know !  Our  nation's  chief  hope  for  the 
future  is  in  those  discriminating  spirits  that 
question  her  present  institutions."  He  did 
not  concern  himself  with  Cabell's  smile,  but 
added,  "  One  really  cannot  live  in  America, 
you  know.  Personally  I  have  some  finan- 
cial interests  over  there  which  I  have  to 
look  after  occasionally — ah  !  good-morning, 
Miss  McClaren.  Rather  agreeable  weather 
for  December  ? ' ' 

Miss  McClaren  paused.  "  Are  all  those 
flags  in  our  honor?"  she  asked.  "We're 
actually  taking  our  place  among  the  nations, 
then.  Please  don't  tell  me  they  salute  every 
one  in  this  way  !  ' ' 


32  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

Mr.  Dodd  murmured  his  belief  that  the 
cannonading  was  quite  unusual,  and  as  she 
listened  Miss  McClaren  gazed  across  the 
bay. 

"  How  pretty  it  all  is  !  "  she  said.  "  But 
don't  they  do  any  business  here?  I  don't 
see  a  trace  of  traffic.  It's  curious." 

"  But  very  pleasant,"  replied  Mr.  Dodd. 
"  So  different  from  New  York  with  its  fright- 
ful warehouses,  and  docks  and  ferry-boats 
and  all  that !  "  Miss  McClaren  set  a  pair 
of  keen  eyes  upon  him. 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  are  many  Amer- 
icans who  have  the  esthetic  sense  sufficiently 
developed  to  make  them  anxious  to  see  our 
harbors  growing  full  of  water-lilies,"  she 
speculated,  coldly. 

"We  are  indeed  dreadfully  utilitarian," 
agreed  Mr.  Dodd.  "  Oh,  alarmingly  so  ! 
Though  we  may  outgrow  it  if  proper  con- 
ditions arise.  There  goes  ashore  our  first 
boat-load  of  sight-seers  !  ' ' 

"  What  conditions,  for  instance?  " 

"  Conditions  ?     Oh,  yes.     When  we  cease 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  33 

to  be  a  republic.  The  removal  of  this  vul- 
garizing sentiment  of  equality  will  do  much 
for  us." 

"  And  are  you  looking  forward  to  such  a 
change  ?  ' ' 

"  I  think  it  doubtful,"  owned  Mr.  Dodd, 
regretfully.  "  We  had  our  chance  after  the 
war  and  we  didn't  grasp  it.  Now — ah  ! 
there  is  our  friend  Mr.  Cabell  waving  his 
hand  to  us  yonder  in  the  press  of  those 
orange  boats  !  Captivating  kind  of  fellow. 
So  delightfully  young,  you  know,  and  in- 
terested in  things.  A  little  narrow,  of 
course,  and  a  trifle  provincial  and  that.  He 
will  age,  however;  he  will  age." 

"Oh,  yes!"  smiled  Miss  McClaren, 
angrily.  "  Like  his  poor  country,  he  will, 
doubtless,  in  time  become  soulless,  bloodless, 
and  outworn."  She  flounced  away,  leaving 
Mr.  Dodd  with  an  obscure  sense  of  wonder. 

Half-way  across  the  bay  Cabell' s  gray 
cap  and  bushy  hair  were  still  visible  be- 
tween the  turbaned  heads  and  loosely 
swathed  shoulders  of  his  rowers.  He  was 


34  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

inspecting  the  passing  boats,  looking  for 
Leilia  in  them,  and  finding  nowhere  any  one 
who  resembled  her,  either  in  the  light  shells 
dancing  seaward  or  among  the  people  who 
stood  bargaining  for  transportation  on  the 
moss-blotched  curb  of  the  shore.  A  wild 
clamor,  impatient  and  denunciatory,  arose 
from  the  throng  of  boatmen  paddling  in  the 
shallows.  One  of  their  number  had  moored 
his  skiff  at  the  deep  stone  steps  of  the  land- 
ing, and  there  seemed  to  be  a  general  fear 
that  he  might  succeed  in  securing  to  himself 
all  such  passengers  as  were  still  on  the  bank. 
.  Only  two,  indeed,  were  left  when  he  finally 
pulled  out,  two  women,  who,  as  Cabell's 
rowers  fetched  a  long  landward  stroke,  drew 
back  to  escape  the  splashing  of  the  oars. 

Cabell,  stepping  on  the  curb,  began  a 
word  of  apology,  noting  as  he  did  so  that 
the  nearer  woman  appeared  to  be  a  servant. 
The  other,  who  acknowledged  his  gesture 
with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head,  seemed 
to  him  an  American  girl,  young,  with  dis- 
tinction and  charm  in  her  look  and  manner 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  35 

Her  figure  was  a  figure  of  the  century,  grace- 
ful to  delicacy ;  and  in  passing,  Cabell  caught 
the  merest  glance  of  a  face  as  fresh  and  joy- 
ous and  smiling  as  a  face  of  Boucher  or 
Mignard.  There  was  a  flat,  knitted  cap 
pinned  coquettishly  upon  this  young  person's 
dark  hair,  but  neither  the  fashion  of  her 
head-gear  nor  the  sweetness  and  gaiety  of 
her  aspect,  detracted  from  the  suggestion 
of  gentle  dignity  which  encompassed  her. 
Something  definitely  like  pride  haunted  the 
lines  of  the  girlish  countenance  which  lin- 
gered in  Cabell's  perceptions  as  he  stood 
wondering  if  it  might  not  be  well  for  him  to 
yield  to  the  solicitations  of  a  cabman  in  the 
street  beyond.  And  as  he  seated  himself 
and  was  driven  away  he  was  for  a  moment 
aware  of  pondering  upon  the  unusual  blend- 
ing of  majesty  and  sweetness  in  the  young 
woman's  bearing. 

Two  weeks  before,  in  Kentucky,  it  had 
been  winter.  Here,  summer  in  a  plenitude 
of  fruit  and  blossom  and  soft  sky  and  balsamy 
air  held  the  fancy  captive,  discovering  new 


36  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

freshness  and  beauty  at  each  turn  of  the 
winding  road.  Up  and  up  the  cab  rattled. 
Presently  a  little  park  opened  a  reach  of 
tropical  greenness  in  the  midst  of  which  a 
pedestalled  steed  lifted  its  rider,  and  small 
benches  stood  hospitably,  and  children 
played,  and  zouaves  in  baggy  uniforms  pa- 
raded their  startling  reds  and  blues.  Out  of 
this  shady  expanse  narrow  alleys  full  of 
bright  shops  sped  like  painted  arrows  from  a 
bent,  dark  bow.  Still  the  road  seemed  to 
rise  and  curve,  and  its  wheeling  length  for- 
ever brought  in  range  varying  aspects  of  the 
bay,  lying  far  below  in  a  blueness  which 
made  the  sky  look  by  contrast  almost  white. 
Thick-set  orange-trees  leaned  from  wayside 
gardens.  Heaps  of  lily-like  crimson  flowers 
hung  over  ruined  walls  and  crumbling  ter- 
races, and  often  climbed  as  high  as  some 
deep,  latticed  window,  through  which  a 
girl's  dark  eyes  peered.  Stuccoed  heights 
daubed  with  scrolls  of  scaling  purple  and 
gold,  zigzag  roofs  and  rag-hung  balconies, 
women  densely  veiled  below  the  eyes,  little 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  37 

boys  in  trousers  resembling  looped  petticoats, 
donkeys  nodding  under  panniers  of  dirt, 
fezzed  personages  beating  instruments  of 
brass  before  certain  shops — such  sights  as 
these  whirled  by  in  bewildering  rapidity 
and  the  harbor  spread  again  in  view  its 
sail-flecked  sapphire. 

When  Cabell  reached  deck  he  perceived  at 
once  that  Leilia  had  arrived  in  his  absence. 
She  was  sitting  beside  his  mother,  and 
even  at  the  distance  from  which  he  observed 
her,  Cabell  could  not  fail  to  see  that  how- 
ever a  prolonged  foreign  residence  might 
have  effected  in  her  a  moral  deterioration, 
its  result  upon  her  materially  had  been  only 
improving.  It  struck  him  that  there  was 
something  a  little  studied  in  her  gently  at- 
tentive poise  ;  but  the  smooth  gloss  of  hair 
lying  against  her  soft,  tranquil  cheek  and  the 
brooding  quietude  of  her  brown  eyes  gave 
her  so  mild  and  madonna-like  a  look  that 
Cabell  felt  himself  somewhat  ashamed  of  his 
suspicion.  When  Leilia  saw  him  and  held 
out  both  hands  to  him  in  what  seemed  to  be 


38  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

an  instinct  of  the  friendliest  welcome,  her 
cousin  blushed  through  his  dark  skin,  re- 
membering with  vague  amusement  the  chill- 
ing rebuke  he  had  fancied  it  might  become 
his  duty  to  administer  to  this  kind  and 
gracious  lady. 

"You  haven't  changed,  Dick,"  said 
Leilia.  "  That  gravely  expectant  air  !  how 
well  I  remember  it !  And  are  you  still  a 
little  absent-minded,  cousin,  as  you  used  to 
be?  I  fancy  you  must  be,  for  you  haven't 
said  yet  that  you  are  glad  to  see  me !  " 

Cabell  recalled  himself  with  a  reply,  which, 
in  spite  of  a  lack  of  direct  intention,  bore  a 
flavor  of  compliment. 

"  I  am  far  past  such  pretty  folly,"  Leilia 
smiled,  shaking  her  head.  "  When  you  see 
what  a  great  boy  I  have  to  look  after  you 
will  realize  how  necessary  it  is  for  me  to  cul- 
tivate a  proper  seriousness." 

"And  where  is  my  little  kinsman?" 
asked  Cabell,  surveying  the  knots  of  people 
along  the  deck.  Advancing  among  them, 
smiling  with  the  same  brightness  he  had 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  39 

noted  in  seeing  her  upon  the  sea- washed 
landing  an  hour  before,  he  remarked  the 
young  woman  in  the  knitted  cap  to  whom 
he  had  made  his  excuses  for  the  boatmen's 
rudeness.  Others  besides  himself  were  also 
observing  her  with  what  appeared  to  be  ad- 
miring interest ;  but  though  every  one  was 
so  regardful  of  her  as  she  passed  along,  she 
herself  was  heeding  none  except  the  small 
boy  dancing  at  her  side. 

"That  is  Bur,"  specified  Leilia,  taking 
the  direction  of  Cabell's  eye.  "  He  and 
Piccarda  are  the  greatest  friends.  I  think 
he  is  rather  fonder  of  her  than  he  is  of  me  ! 
I  should  be  jealous  if  I  did  not  love  her  so 
much  myself." 

Cabell  leaned  thoughtfully  upon  the  arm 
of  his  mother's  chair. 

"  Is  that  Signorina  Visconti  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Surely  not !  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  it  be  ?  "  laughed  Leilia. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  can  give  a  logical 
reason,"  Cabell  mused.  "  Except  that  in 
seeing  your  friend  on  shore  just  now  I  took 


40  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

her  for  a  countrywoman  of  my  own.  Of 
course  it's  a  blow  to  my  vanity  to  learn  that 
my  penetration  is  not  what  I  thought.  A 
lady  of  the  Visconti,  I  judged,  would  be 
high-featured  and  austere,  with  traces  of  blue 
blood  in  her  purplish  complexion.  I  sup- 
posed she  would  have  a  monumental  heavi- 
ness and  frigidity.  Now  this  young  person 
isn't  in  the  least  monumental ! — and  her 
eyes  are  blue.  It  was  a  foregone  conclusion 
with  me  that  any  and  all  of  the  Visconti 
would  have  an  eagle  glance,  dark  and  ter- 
rifying." 

"So  you  have  already  seen  Piccarda," 
commented  Leilia.  ''She  and  my  maid 
went  ahead.  I  had  to  stop  for  a  last  word 
with  Bur's  physician.  Isn't  she  charming? 
Oh,  every  one  spoils  her  !  " 

Mrs.  Cabell  had  been  maintaining  a  con- 
scientious reserve.  She  said  now,  in  a  tone 
of  reprobation,  "  I  suppose  she  has  a  title." 

Leilia  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she 
said.  "  Titles,  however,  in  Italy  do  not  al- 
ways imply  distinction.  Often  old  and 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  41 

noble  families  are  without  them.  The  Vis- 
conti,  as  of  course  you  know,  spring  from 
a  stock  old  as  the  oldest,  valorous  in  war, 
spotless  in  honor.  There  are  very  few  of 
them  left,  only  Piccarda  orphaned  in  her 
babyhood,  and  the  head  of  the  house,  an 
uncle,  unmarried  and  by  no  means  young." 
Raising  her  voice  a  little  she  said,  "  Pic- 
carda ? ' '  and  Cabell  presently  found  him- 
self expressing  the  satisfaction  he  had  in  be- 
coming acquainted  with  Leilia's  friend. 


Ill 


SIGNORINA  VISCONTI  held  out  her  hand 
very  cordially,  and  said  with  a  decided  ac- 
cent, "I  have  great  pleasure."  It  perhaps 
detracted  somewhat  from  Cabell's  gratifica- 
tion in  this  statement,  impersonal  as  it  was, 
that  she  added  at  once,  "  America  is  of  such 
interest  to  me  !  " 

At  closer  range,  his  impression  of  some- 
thing aerially  light  and  bright  in  her  was 
deepened ;  and  he  began  to  observe  that 
though  she  carried  herself  with  an  effect  of 
superior  height,  she  was  really  not  very  im- 
posing of  stature,  but  small  of  bone,  small 
of  feature,  with  exquisitely  modelled  nostrils, 
and  eyes  which  were  particularly  notable  by 
reason  of  the  sweet  and  flower-like  folding 
of  the  lids.  He  further  noted  the  com- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  43 

pressed  oval  in  which  her  teeth  were  set  as 
she  pursued,  ' '  There  is  much  I  shall  wish  to 
ask  you.  Leilia  has  already  told  me  all  she 
knows ' ' 

"  Piccarda  !  "  interposed  Mrs.  Fanning, 
"do  not  unmask  me!  I  should  like  my 
friends  to  think  that  I  have  grown  in  wis- 
dom as  well  as  years." 

The  Italian  girl  laughed  with  infectious 
merriment. 

"  But  why  should  you  wish  them  to  think 
you  wise?  "  she  asked.  "  Is  any  one  loved 
better  for  knowing  many  things?  Often  I 
am  terrified — or  would  you  say  terrorized  ? 
— to  find  what  American  women  know,  what 
they  learn,  what  books  they  read  !  If  life 
were  not  so  short  it  would  not  matter ;  but 
it  is  only  a  little  minute,  and  there  is  no 
happiness  for  women  in  such  things.  We, 
of  my  country,  we  know  less,  but  we  are 
wiser,  for  we  say  always — '  what  does  it  make 
of  good?'  " 

"  Your  idioms,  dear,"  said  Leilia,  mildly, 
"  are  often  rather  involved." 


44  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

"You  see?"  Piccarda  appealed  to  Ca- 
bell,  "  you  see  how  she  would  keep  us  from 
remembering  her  ignorance  ?  Ah,  Leilia  ! 
Is  it  not  true  that  when  I  have  asked  you 
to  tell  me  of  your  broad  prairies,  your 
great  cataracts  and  caves  —  is  it  not  true 
that  you  say  always  '  I  know  nothing  ? ' 
And  when  I  have  said,  '  Describe  to  me, 
cara  mia,  the  great  warriors  of  your  country, 
all  feathered  like  mighty  eagles  and  rushing 
to  battle  with  war-cries  and  tomahawks  ' — 
when  I  have  said  this  you  answer  only,  '  I 
can  tell  you  not  a  word.'  '  She  pointed 
her  speech  with  continual  little  gestures,  and 
it  seemed  to  Cabell  that  her  slender  fingers 
were  quite  as  voluble  as  her  lips. 

Into  the  wide  bay  before  them,  with  its 
yachts  and  iron-clads,  a  vagrant  ship  was 
slinking — a  tramp  ship,  blotched  over  its 
mean  hulk  in  patches  of  brown  paint,  and 
floating  at  the  mast  an  ominous  scrap  of  yel- 
low. It  was  like  a  beggar  carrying  its  rags 
into  a  fashionable  gathering,  and  the  muffled 
th robbings  of  the  guns,  swelling  at  intervals 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  45 

upon  the  sea,  were  like  murmurs  of  indigna- 
tion from  the  exclusive  craft  in  the  port. 

"This  is  a  day  of  festival  in  Algiers," 
Leilia  remarked,  as  they  turned  to  watch  the 
vagabond  sail. 

"Yes,"  said  Cabell.  "We  thought  at 
first  that  all  this  was  in  honor  of  our  arrival. 
I've  just  learned,  however,  that  it's  only  be- 
cause a  son  is  born  to  the  Khedive.  Bur 
has  been  telling  me.  He  knows  all  the  for- 
eign news — don't  you,  Bur?"  And  he 
turned  to  Leilia's  little  son,  who,  having 
submitted  to  the  embraces  of  his  relatives, 
stood  hard  by  in  a  pensive  attitude.  Bur- 
bridge,  in  spite  of  his  mother's  assertion, 
seemed  to  be  a  very  little  boy  indeed.  He 
had  a  soft,  thoughtful  face,  and  in  his 
cropped  yellow  hair  a  babyish  ripple  still 
rounded,  though  there  was  a  penetration 
not  quite  child-like  in  the  child's  dark  eyes. 

"I  was  wondering,"  he  said,  pocketing 
his  hands  in  a  manly  and  meditative  fashion, 
"if  the  Khedive  was  glad  to  have  a  son 
born  to  him  ? ' ' 


46  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

"  I  suppose  there  isn't  the  slightest  doubt 
of  it?"  laughed  Cabell,  lifting  the  small 
light  figure.  "You're  not  very  heavy, 
Bur!" 

"Not  very,"  agreed  Bur,  wriggling  free 
with  some  dignity.  "  Why  do  you  think  he 
would  be  glad  ?  ' ' 

"Why  would  any  man  be  glad?" 
smiled  Cabell.  "Why  does  any  one  want 
a  son  ?  to  be  a  comfort  to  his  age,  perhaps  ! 
to  take  care  of  him  when  he's  old  and 
helpless!  " 

Burbridge  seemed  to  consider  this. 

"  It  will  be  very  stupid  for  the  son, 
won't  it?"  he  debated.  "I  wonder  if  my 
father  expects  me  to  be  a  comfort ' ' 

"Burbridge,"  interposed  his  mother, 
softly,  "  now  that  we  are  out  at  sea,  you 
must  have  on  a  heavier  coat.  Go  to  Na- 
nine,  dear." 

"  In  a  minute,  mamma.  If  he  really  ex- 
pects it,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  stay  with 
him  and  look  after  him  and  all  that.  But  I 
shan't  like  it " 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  47 

"Burbridge  !  " 

"  M'man,  yes.  I  shan't  like  it  if  he 
stays  like  he  is  now.  He  laughs  so  loud  and 
sits  with  his  feet  stretched  out." 

Leilia  rose.  A  vivid  color  burned  in  her 
cheeks ;  but  she  laid  her  hand  with  admi- 
rable gentleness  on  Burbridge's  shoulder, 
saying,  /Perhaps  I  had  better  go  with  you. 
The  cabin  may  not  be  easy  to  find." 

That  afternoon  a  flurry  of  wind  sprung 
up,  disturbing  the  passionless  suavity  of  the 
sea  and  driving  from  their  perch  along  the 
horizon  a  flock  of  small  white  clouds,  which, 
as  they  mounted  the  sky,  obscured  the  sun  as 
if  with  a  sudden  spread  of  broad  wings.  A 
shower  began  to  wash  aboard,  spraying  with 
steely  vapors  the  faces  of  such  passengers  as 
remained  in  their  rugs  under  the  roofed  por- 
tion of  the  decks.  With  coat  collars  above 
their  ears  a  number  of  men  tramped  about 
the  slippery,  windy  walks ;  but  it  was  not  an 
enlivening  pursuit,  and  after  an  hour  of  it 
Cabell  joined  the  throng  in  the  smoking- 
room,  and,  burying  himself  in  a  corner,  con- 


48  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

tinned  the  train  of  thought  which  had  added 
to  the  discomfort  of  his  wet  ramblings. 

Burbridge's  stammering  word  of  contempt 
had  brought  Cabell  a  sharp,  sudden  recol- 
lection of  his  friend.  Fanning's  dingy  ware- 
houses and  dreary  offices,  Fanning's  awk- 
ward figure  and  plain  face  and  sullen,  sorrow- 
ful air  came  swiftly  upon  his  vision,  set  off 
against  another  picture — that  of  Leilia  fair 
and  smiling,  holding  Burbridge  against  her 
knee  and  pointing  out  to  him  some  feature 
of  an  arc  of  radiant  sea,  bright  with  sails  and 
flags  and  a  multitude  of  little  dancing  skiffs. 

"  Haven't  I  decided  that  it  is  no  business 
of  mine  ?  ' '  Cabell  asked  himself,  angrily  ; 
but  whether  or  not  he  could  justify  it,  a  per- 
sistent resentment  toward  his  cousin  returned 
to  vex  him.  As  he  smoked  on,  waxing 
more  and  more  splenetic,  he  found  himself 
including  Signorina  Visconti  in  the  ever- 
widening  sweep  of  his  reprehension.  Indi- 
rectly she  had  part  in  Leilia's  wilful  es- 
trangement, however  inadequately  Cabell 
could  define  it. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  49 

"I  myself  am  mean  and  small  enough," 
he  meditated,  "  to  have  perhaps  felt  an 
added  interest  in  this  girl  because  of  the 
suggestion  of  valorous  blood  and  by-gone 
achievement  and  pride  of  place  which  in- 
vests her.  I  ought  not  to  come  down  too 
hard  on  Leilia  because  she  has  exalted  her- 
self above  the  plane  of  home-bred  virtues 
and  simple  duties  to  bask  in  the  sunny 
heights  of  noble  favor  !  It  seems  as  if  I 
might  easily  become  something  of  a  snob 
myself." 

This  mood  enabled  him  to  feel  a  gloomy 
satisfaction  in  declining  to  join  a  card-party 
which  Miss  McClaren  that  evening  arranged, 
and  upon  which  his  absence  appeared  to 
cast  no  shadow,  as  he  observed  upon  glanc- 
ing once  or  twice  into  the  gay  little  salon. 
The  sight  of  his  mother's  mild  face  and  soft 
drab  hair  rather  mitigated  the  severity  of  his 
humor;  but  he  stiffened  again  in  regarding 
Leilia's  smiling  face.  Piccarda,  it  seemed, 
had  been  guilty  of  some  false  move  or  other, 
and  every  one  was  greatly  amused.  She, 
4 


50  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

herself,  in  token  of  profound  abasement,  was 
striking  with  a  penitential  hand  the  frills  of 
scarlet  silk  across  her  bosom,  while  her 
bowed  head  cast  off  the  radiance  of  the 
bunched  lights  above  it,  and  her  lashes  dis- 
covered a  gleam  that  was  gay  enough  for 
all  their  feigning  of  despair.  Nothing, 
indeed,  seemed  further  from  Piccarda's  emo- 
tional possibilities  than  sorrow  ;  and  brood- 
ing upon  the  matter,  Cabell  decided  that 
something  akin  to  heartlessness  must  sure- 
ly inhere  in  a  nature  so  predisposed  to  be 
joyful. 

Yet,  upon  the  following  day  he  had  occa- 
sion to  doubt  his  judgment  in  this  particular 
instance.  It  was  early  in  the  morning,  and 
he  was  stirring  about  the  high,  dry  walks  of 
the  steamer  enjoying  the  freshness  of  the 
air  and  the  comparative  solitude  of  the 
decks,  when,  at  a  sudden  turn,  there  came 
to  him  voices,  agitated  and  hurried,  and 
mixing,  as  he  listened,  with  a  varying  sound 
of  sobs.  In  another  step  he  saw  Piccarda 
leaning  on  the  rail,  speaking,  evidently,  with 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  51 

some  one  in  the  regions  of  the  steerage — 
some  one  who  responded  with  long  moans 
and  an  occasional  word  of  Italian,  bitter  and 
brief. 

Cabell  paused  uncertainly.  He  was  about 
to  turn  back,  when  Piccarda,  as  if  to  avoid 
a  painful  vision,  \theeled  round  and  at  once 
saw  him.  Her  cheeks  were  wet,  her  eyes 
overflowing.  There  may  have  been  sympa- 
thy in  the  young  man's  look,  for  she  said, 
drawing  her  veil  over  her  tearful  face,  "I 
have  been  just  now  very  sad — oh,  very  ! 
You  see,  it  was  this  way :  I  was  walking 
about  the  boat  for  the  good  air,  since  my 
stomach  is  not  quite  itself  on  shipboard;  and 
as  I  came  to  this  place  I  heard  a  great  weep- 
ing. The  steward  was  by,  and  I  have  asked 
him  what  it  is,  where  it  is.  He  told  me 
that  what  he  calls  a  Dago  has  died  last  even- 
ing in  the  steerage,  that  they  have  buried 
him  at  sea  during  the  night,  and  that  it  is 
his  wife  who  mourns  without  ceasing.  So  I 
have  spoken  with  her.  But  her  husband 
was  not  a  Dago ;  he  was  an  Italian,  of 


52  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

Naples,  like  me.  Look !  that  is  she  in  the 
black  shawl." 

Cabell  saw,  huddled  together  on  the  lower 
deck,  a  woman  who  crouched  against  the 
guard  rail,  staring  blankly  out  upon  the  waste 
of  water,  rocking  herself  and  moaning  as  she 
rocked. 

"  They  were  three  years  in  America,"  ex- 
plained Piccarda,  ' '  and  they  had  prospered 
and  were  coming  home  to  make  a  little  shop 
where  cheeses  and  beans  and  such  things  are 
sold.  His  illness  was  of  the  lungs."  She 
stopped  to  say  something  to  the  woman 
below,  who  in  reply  lifted  a  voice  of  wild 
lament. 

Piccarda  hid  her  own  face,  and  when  she 
spoke  again  it  was  brokenly. 

"She  says  she  could  have  borne  to  lose 
Guiseppe  if  it  was  the  blessed  God's  will ; 
but  to  have  him  cast  into  the  deep  seas  with- 
out a  candle  or  a  prayer  or  a  touch  of  oil — 
that  is  what  hurts  most.  And  she  is  right," 
cried  the  girl.  "To  die  without  the  holy 
wafer  on  one's  lips !  — •  this  is  to  make 


ONE    OF  THE  VISCONTI  53 

death  a  thing  I  die  with  fear  only  to  think 
of!" 

A  number  of  men  had  lounged  into  sight 
below,  smoking,  chattering,  now  and  again 
offering  some  rough  consolation  to  the  woman 
in  the  shawl,  who  merely  thrust  back  their 
words  with  a  desperate  hand,  saying,  over 
and  over,  "  £  finita  !  £  finita !  " 

A  girl  with  broad  gold  hoops  in  her  ears 
just  now  appeared  among  the  men,  carrying 
astride  her  hip  a  plump  dark  baby,  who  gur- 
gled cheerfully  over  its  fist.  She  set  it  upon 
the  floor  and  made  a  sign  to  the  others,  and 
stood  back,  watching  the  child  creep  toward 
the  bowed,  black  figure.  No  one  spoke  as 
the  little  thing,  crawling  swiftly,  at  length 
laid  hold  of  the  knee  of  the  weeping  woman, 
and  lifted  itself,  and  babbled,  and  dragged 
the  shawl  from  the  wretched  face.  Then  a 
murmur  of  relief  went  through  the  press ;  for 
she  who  had  refused  to  give  ear  to  any,  bent 
suddenly  and  snatched  the  baby  to  her 
heart,  kissing  it,  speaking  to  it  passionately- 

Piccarda  drew  a  great  sigh. 


54  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

"Let  us  go  away,"  she  said  to  Cabell. 
"It  is  better  with  her  now.  She  has  said 
to  her  little  one,  '  Thou  hast  still  thy  mother, 
my  poor  lamb ! '  " 


IV 


TOGETHER  they  walked  on  in  the  face 
of  the  shining  sea.  A  little  way  down  the 
deck  Burbridge  came  running  toward  them, 
a  slight,  small  figure  which  seemed  scarcely 
to  touch  the  boards  as  it  bounded  along. 
The  boy  flung  himself  on  Piccarda  impul- 
sively, and  then  drew  back  and  lifted  his 
midshipman's  cap. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me  !  "  he  besought,  "  chere 
amie,  forgive  me !  It  was  dreadful  of  me 
to  rush  against  you  like  that.  It  is  true, 
as  mamma  says,  that  I  am  rough  like  my 
father,  really  rough.  I'm  afraid  I  shall  nev- 
er be  un  homme  comme  il  faut !" 

Piccarda  bent  to  speak  to  him. 

"  I  love  you  best  when  you  are  not  a 
gentleman  at  all,"  she  whispered,  "but 
only  a  little,  little  boy  !  " 


56  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

Burbridge  kissed  her  hand  loudly.  Then 
he  straightened  himself  and  cried,  "  Do  you 
know  what  I  am  this  morning  ? — something 
big !  I  am  put  commander  of  the  ship  ! 
the  captain  has  just  said  so."  And  he 
danced  off  like  a  whiff  of  thistle-down, 
shouting,  "  All  hands  aft  there  !  allez  vite  ! 
vite  !  " 

Something  later  in  the  day  Mrs.  Cabell 
drew  her  son  aside  and  said,  with  a  certain 
hesitation,  "  I  need  not  remind  you,  Dick, 
how  singularly  free  from  prejudice  my  mind 
is?" 

"  No,  mother  !  " 

"  I  feel  as  I  have  always  felt  toward  Count 
Orsini's  compatriots.  I  haven't  changed. 
But  Signorina  Visconti  is  not  typical ;  I  am 
sure  she  is  not  !  and  I  have  decided  not  to 
mention  to  her  my  feeling  toward  her  peo- 
ple. I  hope  you,  also,  will  refrain  from — 
er — from ' ' 

"  Giving  you  away  ?  very  well." 

"  I  shall  not  tell  her  about  Anna  Bedell ;  " 
concluded  Mrs.  Cabell.  "It  might  pain 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  57 

her  to  know  what  reasons  we  have  for  de- 
testing the  nation  to  which  she  belongs." 

The  nation  to  which  Piccarda  belonged 
was  even  at  that  moment  being  interrogated 
through  her,  as  Cabell  presently  perceived. 
Miss  McClaren  was  in  speech  with  her  near 
the  doorway,  and  their  voices  carried  dis- 
tinctly to  him. 

"I  am  so  anxious,"  Miss  McClaren  was 
declaring,  "to  know  if  the  sympathy  of 
the  women  of  your  country  is  with  us  in 
our  work !  Pardon  me,  signorina,  for  beg- 
ging you  to  inform  me  on  this  point.  It's 
a  subject  of  the  deepest  interest  to  me  to 
find  out  just  how  Italian  women  consider 
our  recent  movements  for  the  advancement 
of  the  cause.  Our  national  council,  for  in- 
stance ! — do  they  feel  as  we  feel,  that  this 
concentration  of  energy  is  profoundly  im- 
portant ?  ' ' 

Piccarda' s  face  wore  a  dim  bewilderment. 
"Your  —  a  —  national  council?"  she  in- 
quired. 

'•'  It  is  for  the  centralization  of  all  work 


58  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

that  has  been  or  is  being  done  by  women, 
with  a  view  to  its  systematic  progress,"  ex- 
plained Miss  McClaren. 

"I  did  not  know,"  admitted  Piccarda, 
evidently  quite  at  sea,  but  listening  with 
that  courteous  sweetness  which  lies  deep  in 
the  Italian  character.  "  They  meet  to- 
gether for  to  make  their  work  more  pleasant 
— is  that  it?  "  she  pursued.  "  In  Italy  we 
do  not,  except — "  she  interpolated,  bright- 
ening—  "the  washer- women  !  You  shall 
enjoy  seeing  them,  all  of  a  party,  rubbing 
the  linen " 

"  The  work  I  refer  to  is  not  of  this  sort," 
Miss  McClaren  broke  in,  mildly.  "The 
Council  is  a  union  of  many  local  councils, 
all  of  which  design  to  secure  to  women 
greater  privileges  in  the  conduct  of  af- 
fairs—  "  she  paused,  observing  that  Piccarda 
had  now  entirely  lost  her  bearings.  "  Do 
you  not  know,"  continued  Miss  McClaren, 
going  back  to  first  principles,  "  that  woman's 
position  has  always  been  inferior,  that  she 
has  always  been  enslaved,  and  suppressed, 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  59 

and   denied   the   privileges  of  an    individ- 
ual?" 

"  Dio  mio  !  "  cried  Piccarda,  horrified. 
"Is  it  indeed  so  in  your  country?  I  no 
longer  wonder  that  American  women  like 
best  to  stay  over  here  !  Now  with  us  it  is 
very  different.  In  Italy  women  have  always 
been  loved  and  made  much  of,  and  allowed 
to  do  any  work  they  pleased.  They  have 
been,  since  long  ago,  saints  and  warriors  and 
poets — Caterina  of  Sienna,  Caterina  Sforza, 
Vittoria  Colonna.  Of  course  now  we  make 
no  more  saints,  because  the  world  grows 
colder.  And  there  is  no  need  that  we  pro- 
tect our  homes  with  arms,  like  Caterina 
Sforza.  But  we  may  make  verses  still,  only 
it  is  not  amusing  to  make  verses.  And  for 
most  women  there  are  the  husband  and  the 
children,  and  for  all  women  this  is  enough. 
N'  e  vero?" 

"  I  am  not  surprised  that  your  views  are 
rather  limited,  signorina.  Everything  in 
the  past — even  religion  itself — has  served  to 
narrow  woman's  outlook.  We  hope  the 


60  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

future  will  change  all  this.  Indeed,  I  under- 
stand that  measures  are  afoot  in  the  council 
for  the  revision  of  certain  passages  in  our 
Scriptures,  and  that  we  may  soon  have  an 
edition  free  from  those  allusions  which  have 
detracted  from  the  dignity  of  our  sex." 

Piccarda  seemed  at  last  to  understand  some- 
thing. She  made  a  furtive  sign  of  the  cross. 

"Madonna  Santissima  !  "  she  breathed. 
And  Cabell  saw  her  turn  away  with  a  move- 
ment of  the  lips  as  if  she  prayed  not  to  be 
smitten  down  straightway  for  having  given 
ear  to  such  a  statement. 

That  night  there  was  another  party  in  the 
little  salon.  As  before,  Cabell  did  not  join 
it,  but  remained  out  of  doors,  watching  the 
bright,  southern  stars  wax  large  in  the  purple 
sky.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  he 
decided  upon  going  below,  and  as  he  passed 
the  corner  by  the  door,  his  eye  was  caught 
by  a  movement  in  the  dark  depths  of  his 
mother's  chair.  Looking  more  closely  he 
saw  Burbridge,  half  dressed,  nestling  there 
asleep. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  61 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  in  the  night 
air?"  asked  Cabell,  rousing  the  child  and 
wrapping  him  in  a  rug.  "Why,  you  are 
cold  ! — your  mother " 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't  know  I'm  here,"  cried 
Burbridge.  "  Nanine  put  me  to  bed  and 
went  away.  I  couldn't  sleep  because  there 
was  a  noise  in  the  cabin  like  rattling  glasses 
— but  I  knew  it  wasn't  glasses  because  I  only 
heard  it  when  the  boat  was  steady.  So  I 
said  to  myself,  '  It's  either  witches  or  brown- 
ies !  '  and  just  then  something  cold  blew 
over  me  and  I  knew  it  was  witches,  and  I 
said  '  Peste  !  I've  got  to  get  out  of  here  !  '  " 

"Why  should  you  think  a  whiff  of  air 
meant  witches?  " 

"Oh,  they  always  breathe  on  you  like  that? 
Did  you  never  feel  a  witch  ?  They're  cold 
like  a  toad,  and  they  love  to  snarl  your  hair 
up  with  their  bony  fingers." 

"  Who  told  you  all  this,  Bur  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  studied  it  out !  now  if  only 
brownies  had  been  in  the  cabin  I  shouldn't 
have  cared.  When  I  was  small  I  was  afraid 


62  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

of  them,  too,  till  I  got  acquainted.  We're 
firm  friends  now,  especially  me  and  the 
Irishman.  I  made  up  to  them  by  sprinkling 
cake-crumbs  for  them  under  the  table  at 
dinner.  Mamma  used  to  scold  awful !  she 
didn't  understand,  you  see.  She  thought 
I  was  growing  careless,  like  papa."  ^Bur- 
bridge  yawned  against  Cabell's  shoulder. 
"  He'll  be  over  again  in  May.  He  comes 
every  year,  you  know." 

"  That  will  be  pleasant,  won't  it?  " 

"Well,  no,"  confided  Burbridge,  "not 
so  very.  Our  apartment  is  small,  you  see ; 
and  papa  is  lots  of  trouble.  He  won't  have 
his  chocolate  in  bed  like  us.  He  has  to 
have  beefsteak  cooked! — for  breakfast! — 
ugh  ! — and  our  maids  hate  the  bother." 

"  But  you  take  him  out,  don't  you,  to  see 
Paris?" 

"Oh,  I  try  to  show  him  around!" 
breathed  the  child,  gloomily,  "  but  I  hate  it, 
rather !  his  French  is  so  queer  !  and  he  will 
talk  to  the  waiters  and  it's  very  awkward  for 
them  and  for  me  !  Often  I  say,  '  /  will  ex- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  63 

plain  to  them,  petit  pe  !  '  But  he  says,  '  Oh, 
I've  got  to  practise  on  some  one,  Bur  !  '  It's 
dreadful.  Every  one  knows  he's  American." 

"  Then  you  don't  think  it's  a  good  thing 
to  be  an  American  ?  ' ' 

Bur  mused  it  for  a  moment. 

"  Maybe  it  isn't  so  bad  if  you  stay  in 
America,"  he  discriminated.  "  Every  one 
would  be  like  you.  Mamma  says  papa  was 
not  half  so  trying  over  there.  Listen  !  did 
you  hear  Piccarda  laugh? — don't  you  just 
love  Piccarda  ? — listen  !  She  is  like  a  prin- 
cess, isn't  she  ? — not  a  real  princess  !  a  real 
one  would  be  big,  and  white,  and  still.  But 
a  fairy  princess,  with — with  dewdrops — and 
glow-worms "  his  head  dropped  drowsi- 
ly on  Cabell's  shoulder,  and  Cabeli  sighed 
as  he  drew  the  rug  over  the  small  face,  so 
babyish  in  sleep,  of  Fanning's  disdainful 
little  son. 

On  the  morning  of  their  arrival  in  Naples, 
Cabeli  was  aroused  long  before  daybreak  by 
wild  cries  of  "  Italia  !  viva  1' Italia  !  "  from 
hundreds  of  voices  in  the  steerage  below 


64  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

him.  The  steamer  was  motionless,  and 
glancing  out  he  saw  a  starry  expanse  of  sky 
and  a  stretch  of  black  water  upon  which  a 
wide  circle  of  lamps  cast  streaks  of  shining 
gold.  All  about,  ships  lay  at  anchor,  and 
as  Cabell  looked  the  portholes  in  the  side  of 
one  dark  hull  began  to  glow  with  sudden 
light  until  the  vessel  seemed  as  if  perforated 
with  fiery  spots. 

The  first  pallid  gray  of  the  rousing  east 
revealed,  phantom-like  and  dim,  the  ancient 
city  lifting  its  hoar  shape  against  the  heights 
whose  old,  monastic-looking  pile  crowns  it 
with  majesty ;  while,  upon  the  vague  shad- 
ows to  the  right,  Vesuvius,  with  a  hint  of 
painful  languor  in  the  line  of  its  hollow 
crest,  massed  a  swarthy  bulk.  That  line 
was  like  the  swag  of  a  flaccid  muscle  which 
has  once  been  strong,  and  which,  through  a 
terrible  strain,  has  lapsed  to  nothing ;  and 
the  thread  of  smoke  curling  up  from  the 
double  summit  toward  the  silvery  torch  of 
the  morning  star  was  faint,  also,  and  failing 
like  a  last  breath. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  65 

At  the  first  throb  of  daylight  innumerable 
little  boats  swung  out  from  shore ;  and  pres- 
ently after  the  sun  was  up,  a  raft-like  float 
filled  with  a  clamor  of  mandolins  and  gui- 
tars fetched  alongside  the  steamer  to  com- 
plicate with  tinklings  and  strummings  the 
confusion  of  landing.  Lei  Ha  had  instructed 
Cabell  to  secure  for  his  mother  a  seat  in  the 
first  launch. 

"Do  not  think  of  us,"  she  said  ;  "re- 
member we  are  on  familiar  soil ;  but  get 
Aunt  Virginia  as  soon  as  possible  out  of  the 
noise  and  rush. ' ' 

Pursuing  this  advice,  Cabell  found  him- 
self quite  early  in  the  day  convoying  his 
mother  through  the  dingy  corridors  of  the 
custom  offices,  and  consoling  her  as  he  was 
able  for  the  devastation  which  grimy,  res- 
olute hands  were  working  in  her  luggage. 
Beyond  these  damp,  dark  places  opened  a 
square,  full  of  sunshine  and  the  shouts  of 
hawkers  of  many  things,  and  numbers  of 
furry  donkeys  and  a  great  stir  of  vehicles 
and  people.  Stalls  of  green  stuff  stood  here 
5 


66  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

and  there ;  priests  in  brown  habits  passed, 
and  several  officers,  picturesque  in  long 
capes  and  with  splendid  cock-plumes  falling 
from  their  hats.  A  man  whose  baggy  pock- 
ets clanked  with  loose  coppers,  rushed 
across  the  square  and  tore  a  feedbag  from 
the  reluctant  nose  of  a  cab-horse  on  the 
further  curb,  while  he  signalled  the  Ameri- 
cans to  await  him. 

Presently  they  were  seated  in  the  ragged 
carrozzella,  and  rapidly  threading  a  section 
of  narrow,  climbing  streets,  so  interesting 
in  their  disorder  and  dirt  and  gaiety  and 
strangeness  as  to  make  Cabell  regret  to  leave 
them  behind.  For  the  way  appeared  to 
lead  into  a  cleaner  part  of  the  city,  with 
broad  thoroughfares  and  a  far  less  enticing 
mixture  of  sights  and  sounds,  a  region  open 
and  wholesome,  but  not  so  captivating  as 
the  heart  of  the  town,  though  the  bay  itself 
came  into  immediate  view,  and  beside  it, 
like  a  strip  of  velvet,  the  green  luxuriance 
of  the  villa  extended  long  and  bright. 

The  hotel,  also,  was  a  trifle  disappointing 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  67 

at  the  first  sight,  being  a  heavy  pile  of  mod- 
ern masonry,  giving  upon  a  small  garden 
which  seemed  to  have  got  detached  by  ac- 
cident from  the  end  of  the  park  across  the 
Piazza.  But  the  blue  of  the  adjacent  waters, 
all  white  with  sails,  and  the  apparent  near- 
ness of  Vesuvius,  all  purple  now  upon  the 
radiant  sky,  reconciled  Cabell  somewhat; 
and  when  Leilia,  a  few  hours  later,  came  to 
inquire  for  the  comfort  of  her  kinsfolk,  she 
found  things  sufficiently  well  with  them. 

It  fell  out  that  Leilia  lived  only  across  the 
Corso  Umberto  in  a  tall  stone  block  not  un- 
like the  hotel,  but  divided  in  a  system  of 
apartments  where  a  number  of  English  and 
American  families  maintained  a  travesty  of 
housekeeping.  Leilia's  front  rooms  gave 
upon  the  villa ;  at  the  side  of  the  house  a 
line  of  street-cars  ran,  often  disputing  right 
of  way  with  herds  of  tawny  goats,  which, 
twice  a  day,  in  a  pastoral  resonance  of  bells, 
came  to  be  milked  at  the  doors  of  neighbor- 
ing customers.  The  apartment  was  pretty 
and  light,  with  stencilled  roses  unfolding 


68  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

their  petals  on  walls  and  ceilings,  and  with  a 
quantity  of  rugs  and  hangings  in  soft  colors, 
and  various  lacquered  chairs  and  delf  bowls 
and  sketches  in  red  chalk.  Notwithstanding 
the  cushions  piled  about,  the  presence  of 
books  and  papers,  and  the  cheerful  intima- 
tions of  a  tea-table,  gay  with  silver  and  por- 
celain, it  was  not  precisely  home-like  in  the 
little,  fanciful  drawing-room. 

"  Home-like  for  a  woman,  perhaps,"  re- 
flected Cabell,  upon  the  occasion  of  an 
early  visit  to  Leilia,  "but  for  a  man  ! — for 
Fanning !  " 

There  could  be  little  doubt  that  Fanning 
must  disarrange  things  greatly  when  he  came 
to  see  his  wife  and  son,  particularly  if  their 
surroundings  in  Paris  had  the  airy  frailty  of 
this  Neapolitan  bower. 

"You  do  not  like  my  things!"  said 
Leilia,  as  she  made  tea  for  him.  "  Neither 
does  Piccarda.  In  spite  of  their  native 
light-heartedness  Italians  like  big,  dark, 
empty  rooms,  which,  if  I  had  to  occupy 
them,  would  give  me  a  suicidal  depression. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  69 

I  depend  a  great  deal  on  my  environment, 
don't  you?  " 

"I  don't  think  I  do,"  said  Cabell. 
"  Everything  with  me  depends  on  how  I'm 
feeling  inside.  Whether  or  not  my  bosom's 
lord  sits  lightly." 

"  Oh,  yes!  "  murmured  Leilia,  lifting  a 
little  bauble  of  a  cup  and  sighing,  "but  if 
this  inner  blessedness  fails  us  I  suppose  there 
is  nothing  for  it  but  to  console  one's  self  by 
making  life's  empty  walls  as  pretty  as  pos- 
sible." 

"  According  to  one's  own  taste  and  pleas- 
ure ?  "  asked  Cabell,  falling  into  this  figure. 
Leilia  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Why  not  ?  if  one's  taste  is  better  than 
the  taste  of  one's  associates?  I  hope  you 
are  not  digging  some  deep  ethical  pit  for 
my  unwary  feet  ?  ' ' 

"Oh,  I  was  only  wondering  if  superiority 
in  any  sort  doesn't  imply  obligation  !  " 

Leilia  shook  her  head.  "To  instruct? 
to  ennoble?  Perhaps.  But  how  tiresome. 
I  haven't  the  evangelizing  spirit,  cousin  !  I 


70  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

have  too  much  respect  for  my  personal  dig- 
nity and  the  intentions  of  others.  It  would 
be  easier  —  and  I  should  consider  it  cor- 
recter  form — for  me  to  sink  and  to  stultify 
myself  than  to  try  to  exalt  and  remodel 
others.  Dick  ! — I  hope  you're  not  preparing 
to  persuade  me  that  duty  and  mental  dete- 
rioration are  ever  one  and  the  same  !  ' ' 

"Oh,  no!"  he  laughed.  "Yet  I  can 
fancy  cases  in  which  the  cultivation  of  in- 
tellectual fineness  might  be  deterioration 
most  gross  !  And  I  must  go  at  once. 

'  The  sun  is  setting  and  the  hour  is  late  ! ' 

— Leilia,  do  you  remember  when  you  used  to 
sing  that  song — long  ago,  in  the  parlor  of 
the  old  stone  house  at  Nicholasville  ?  You 
used  to  sing  it  to  Fanning,  I  recall.  It 
was  a  favorite  of  his."  He  hummed  a  bar 
or  so  and  went  on  :  "  Once,  just  at  dusk,  I 
glanced  into  the  room  with  cousinly  free- 
dom, and  saw  you  sitting  at  the  piano,  pen- 
sively asking  the  shadows,  '  Is  it  a  dream  ?  * 
while  beside  you  Jim  stood  speechlessly  rapt, 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  71 

with  tears  in  his  eyes  !    Dear  old  chap  !    Do 
you  remember  ?  ' ' 

He  paused,  for  Leilia  had  suddenly  risen. 
She  was  pale,  and  a  kind  of  tremor  touched 
the  lines  of  her  lips.  Cabell  was  aware  of 
holding  his  breath  as  he  waited  for  her  to 
speak. 


CABELL  had  a  pang  of  embarrassing  dis- 
quietude, in  feeling  that  Leilia  perhaps  meant 
to  rebuke  him  for  awakening  memories  which 
he  surmised  had  caused  her  something  like 
self-reproach.  It  was  therefore  with  distinct 
relief  that  he  saw  her  recovering  her  usual 
tranquillity,  and  heard  her  say,  "Must  you 
really  go  ?  "  And  he  took  leave  of  her  with 
a  certain  sense  of  awkwardness,  and  a  dim 
perception  of  being  taken  down  in  a  very 
quiet,  but  very  effective  way. 

Though  the  atmosphere  of  Leilia's  green- 
and-white  drawing-room  never  ceased  to  be 
more  or  less  disturbing  to  him,  the  panorama 
of  life  outside  that  silken,  sequestrated  nook 
was  always  a  distraction.  In  a  true  modern 
spirit  he  avoided  the  fresher  and  more  im- 


ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI  73 

posing  parts  of  the  city,  the  new  quarters  of 
the  hill,  and  such  institutions  as  the  Galleria 
Umberto,  with  its  smart,  commercial  air,  for 
the  dingy  labyrinths  of  the  old  town,  a  nest 
of  shadowy,  twisting  alleys,  and  grimy  bal- 
conies, and  dingy  shrines,  and  swarming 
humanity.  Everything  had  its  charm.  Here 
would  be  a  tiny  shop  whose  window  was 
reddened  with  coral ;  there,  one  all  golden 
with  tortoise-shell,  or  frosty  with  alabaster 
and  marble,  or  green  with  Pompeian  re- 
plicas, or  fantastic  with  the  gay  coloring  of 
Neapolitan  majolica.  Strange  straw  things 
from  Ischia,  carven  woods  of  Sorrento,  and 
innumerable  antiquities  of  doubtful  origin 
arrested  Cabell's  eye,  mingling  themselves 
with  the  wares  of  the  little  windowless  dens 
whose  doorways  ran  over  with  lumps  of 
white  cheese,  and  bunches  of  red  peppers, 
and  strings  of  bronze  pigs'  feet,  and  sacks 
of  macaroni  resembling  pine-shavings  of  dif- 
ferent widths. 

It  was  not  the  season  of  flowers,  yet,  in 
wicker  trays  borne  along  on  the  heads  of 


74  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

boys,  quantities  of  stiff  nosegays  sunned 
their  pale  blossoms.  And  often  a  fresh, 
summery  breath,  stealing  on  Cabell  from  a 
break  in  some  grim,  gray  wall  against  which 
he  brushed  in  treading  the  foot-wide  pave- 
ment, would  carry  his  glance  into  a  gloomy 
passage,  where,  over  a  heap  of  wintry  roses 
and  a  glazed  pot  of  embers,  a  crone,  with  a 
profile  like  a  rust-eaten  scythe,  perhaps  sat 
drowsing  in  the  charcoal  fumes. 

Everywhere  were  crowds  of  people,  and 
little  knots  of  zampagnari,  for  it  approached 
Christmas-time,  and  sounds  of  bag-pipes  and 
flutes,  echoing  commonly  in  the  strains  of 
"  Santa  Lucia,"  the  "  Home,  Sweet  Home,'1 
of  Naples,  blended  now  on  all  sides  with  the 
cracking  of  whips,  the  rattling  of  hoofs,  the 
shouts  of  venders,  and,  at  certain  hours  of 
the  day,  with  the  wild  clamors  of  the  gior- 
nalisti,  flaunting  damp  news-sheets  in  the 
faces  of  the  multitude.  As  he  wandered 
through  these  holiday  throngs,  Cabell,  in 
spite  of  his  interest  in  things,  was  at  times 
overcome  with  the  obscure  loneliness  which 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  75 

the  unaccustomed  traveller  is  likely  to  feel 
with  the  recurrence,  in  unfamiliar  scenes, 
of  familiar  festivals.  The  air,  indeed,  was 
sharp  enough  to  verify  his  idea  of  mid-win- 
ter, notwithstanding  the  mildness  of  the 
alien  sky  and  the  resolute  green  of  the  trees, 
which,  while  they  did  not  seem  to  be  grow- 
ing, maintained  a  sort  of  dogged  verdancy 
in  the  teeth  of  breezes  far  more  penetrating 
than  the  Kentuckian  had  expected  to  en- 
counter in  the  balmy  south. 

In  the  Toledo,  passage  was  almost  impos- 
sible. All  the  cave-like  shops  were  full  to 
the  threshold,  and  along  both  footways, 
moved,  thick  and  slow,  vehicles  of  many 
kinds,  from  richly  appointed  equipages  with 
liveried  attendants  and  pompous  hackneys, 
to  ramshackle  cabs  and  rough  donkey  carts 
laden  with  garden  stuff,  on  which  a  conta- 
dina  frequently  reclined  at  ease,  bareheaded, 
with  a  scarlet  handkerchief  about  her  brown 
throat.  High  and  low,  the  people  had  the 
same  racial  characteristics ;  the  human  type 
varied  little.  But  between  the  horses  in  the 


76  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

pressed  thoroughfare  the  difference  was  strik- 
ing. It  scarcely  seemed  as  if  the  heavy 
English  horses  with  their  fashionable  knee- 
movement,  and  docked  tails,  and  taut  checks 
could  belong  to  the  same  family  as  the  little, 
restless  native  steeds,  checkless  and  blinder- 
less,  and  having  their  noses  clasped  in  an 
antique  gear  of  brass  and  their  forelocks  stif- 
fened into  tall  cockades  of  blue  or  scarlet. 

The  fur-wrapped  women  in  the  deep  vic- 
torias appeared  to  Cabell  of  a  definite  like- 
ness;—  peach-faced,  wide- featured,  brown- 
eyed,  with  soft,  small  chins,  heavy  cheeks, 
pointed  foreheads  and  lustreless  hair  of  black 
or  bronze.  All  of  them  seemed  as  if  buried 
in  profound  apathy,  yet  if  one  of  them  hap- 
pened to  speak  to  a  companion,  her  voice 
was  so  sharp,  her  gesture  so  alert  as  to  con- 
vey the  notion  of  sudden  and  overpowering 
wrath. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Caflisch's  the 
press  was  indescribable ;  and  as  Cabell  came 
into  this  region  his  attention  was  taken  by 
the  sight,  in  a  carriage  drawn  up  at  the  curb, 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  77 

of  an  old  man  sitting  beside  a  young  woman 
at  whom  people  were  looking  as  they  passed. 
Cabell  had  an  unexpected  leaping  of  the 
pulse  at  recognizing  Piccarda,  who  had  al- 
ready seen  him  and  was  smiling  toward  him 
in  the  old  bright  way  he  remembered  so 
well,  while  she  spoke  a  word  or  two  in  the 
ear  of  the  old  man  beside  her.  This  person- 
age turned  his  head  with  a  sort  of  slow  dig- 
nity, disclosing  eyes  that  were  shrewd  as  well 
as  rheumy,  and  a  lower  lip  which  in  spite 
of  hanging  loosely  down,  managed  some- 
how to  maintain  an  expression  of  impres- 
sive haughtiness.  Piccarda  leaned  forward. 
She  seemed  no  longer  the  merely  pretty  girl 
he  had  last  seen  in  blue  serge  frock  and  knit- 
ted cap,  with  the  sea-wind  teasing  her  dark 
hair  into  damp  spirals.  She  looked  vastly 
more  womanly  and  more  beautiful,  perhaps 
because  the  dark  velvet  and  furs  about  her 
enhanced  that  stateliness  which  had  always 
in  some  degree  characterized  her  aspect  de- 
spite its  charm  of  youth  and  delicacy. 

"It   is   my  uncle  who  wishes    to   know 


73  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

you,"  she  said.  "I  have  told  him  how  un- 
ceasingly you  were — how  kind  you  unceased 
to  be ' '  She  cast  off  a  gesture  of  exas- 
peration. "  Oh,  this  English  !  How  do  you 
say  when  one  is  never  tired  to  be  kind  ? ' ' 

Signer  Visconti's  lip  relaxed  indulgently. 

"  My  niece  cared  nothing  to  know  your 
tongue  till  of  late  years,  when  she  has  made 
English  friends.  She  did  not  lack  instruc- 
tion in  her  youth ;  but  she  had  never  a  love 
for  study." 

"  Ebbene  !  It  is  not  good  that  a  woman 
know  everything,"  said  Piccarda,  tranquilly. 
"And  is  Mrs.  Cabell  very  well  ?  Will  you 
tell  her  I  come  soon  to  see  if  she  falls  in  love 
with  Naples?" 

The  way,  by  this  time,  was  something 
freer  and  the  carriage  moved  on,  leaving 
Cabell  dimly  sensible  of  a  strange  depres- 
sion. He  wondered  why  the  sight  of  Pic- 
carda should  affect  him  with  an  inexplica- 
ble sadness  ;  but  though  he  meditated  upon 
it  he  was  unable  to  make  the  analysis.  He 
could  decide  only  that  he  wished  to  escape 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  79 

the  remembrance  of  her  in  this  last  sem- 
blance of  graciousness  and  state,  and  to  re- 
call, in  its  stead,  the  vision  of  a  girl  with  wet 
straying  hair,  and  rough  blue  gown. 

That  night,  in  the  cour  d'honneur  of 
the  hotel,  he  was  able  to  consider,  with 
rather  better  heart,  his  encounter  of  the  af- 
ternoon. The  cour  d'honneur,  which  had 
its  name  printed  in  large  gilt  letters  over  the 
great  door,  was  a  pretty  place,  altogether 
too  cheerful  for  the  furtherance  of  dispiriting 
reveries.  All  about  it,  reaching  clear  to 
the  far  glass  roof,  were  tiers  of  softly  lumi- 
nous windows,  with  the  flutter  of  curtains, 
and  here  and  there  a  woman's  face  to  en- 
liven their  open  spaces.  From  the  lower 
walls  hung  clusters  of  lights,  which  flung 
silvery  reflections  on  the  marble  floor,  and 
over  the  great  clumps  of  palms  interlacing 
their  split  fronds  around  the  enclosure. 
Groups  of  bamboo  chairs  and  tables  assisted 
in  the  court's  summery  intimations,  which 
were,  however,  more  effectively  sustained 
by  the  red  glow  of  a  tall  American  stove. 


So  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

Half  a  dozen  native  players  in  scarlet-and- 
white  trappings,  were  strumming  mandolins 
and  tossing  tambourines  just  opposite  Cabell, 
making  the  wide  spaces  ring  with  gay  songs, 
and  quite  drowning  the  voices  of  the  peo- 
ple who  sat  drinking  coffee  at  various  tables 
hard  by.  Most  of  these  talkers  were  unmis- 
takably Americans,  who  seemed  to  be  dis- 
cussing their  travels  and  the  merits  of  the 
world's  health  resorts.  It  appeared  to  Ca- 
bell, now  and  again  catching  scraps  of 
conversation,  that  his  countrymen  in  the 
court  had  been  many  times  everywhere,  and 
had  found  nothing  anywhere  altogether  sat- 
isfactory. A  large  part  of  his  fellow-voyag- 
ers had  debarked  at  Naples,  and  he  ob- 
served that,  while  those  who  were  from  the 
Eastern  States  appeared  not  to  recognize 
each  other  or  to  wish  to  keep  up  the  ameni- 
ties forced  on  them  by  shipboard,  those 
who  lived  farther  west  were  extremely 
given  to  general  sociability,  and  met  on 
the  basis  of  old  friendship  all  those  with 
whom  they  had  shared  the  voyage. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  81 

"Do  you  know,"  asked  his  mother,  at 
his  elbow,  a  picture  of  old  fashions  in  her 
puffed  hair  and  black  lace  mantle,  "how  I 
discovered  on  the  steamer  what  section  of 
country  the  various  passengers  were  from  ? 
It  was  by  watching  how  they  acted  when 
the  band  played  the  '  Star-Spangled  Ban- 
ner.' I  found  that  those  who  applauded 
with  great  enthusiasm  were  always  from 
the  West,  and  that  those  who  never  ap- 
plauded at  all,  but  only  looked  rather 
amused,  belonged  invariably  east  of  Ohio. 
As  to  the  South — of  course,  there  were  only 
four  Southerners  aboard  ;  but  really,  Dick," 
interposed  Mrs.  Cabell,  proudly,  "  there  is 
no  doubt  that  the  noise  they  made  at  the 
first  note  of  '  Dixie  '  was  very  creditable — 
very  creditable  indeed.  A  hundred  Western 
cheers  were  nothing  compared  with  it." 
She  stopped  to  exchange  civilities  with  Mr. 
Dodd,  who  had  strolled  from  a  distant  ta- 
ble, holding  his  cigarette  aside  as  if  he  were 
tired  of  it,  yet  hesitated  to  throw  it  away 
for  fear  of  the  vacuity  which  might  follow. 


82  ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI 

"Frightful  nuisance  —  this  music,"  he 
complained.  "Do  you  know,  Mr.  Cabell, 
that  I  have  a  grievance  against  you  ?  Really, 
now,  it  was  very  unkind  of  you,  that  day 
at  Algiers,  to  leave  me  to — er — your  friend 
Miss  McClaren.  A  singularly  difficult  per- 
son !  She  treated  me  in  a  most  alarming 
way,  don't  you  know?  I  was  quite  used 
up." 

"It  is  something  of  a  strain  to  follow 
her.  She  is  very  clever,"  owned  Mrs.  Ca- 
bell, with  no  intention  of  unkindness. 

"  Er — yes.  We  came  across  the  bay  in 
the  same  launch,  and  I  had  to  suffer  again 
the  neighborhood  of  her  cleverness,"  pur- 
sued Mr.  Dodd.  "  I  happened  to  mention 
the  fact  that  I  never  vote,  and  she  fell  foul 
of  me  at  once;  said  it  was  pitiable  that 
women  should  have  to  struggle  for  a  privi- 
lege which  men  possessed  without  appre- 
ciating, and  all  that  sort  of  thing !  She 
didn't  seem  in  the  least  to  comprehend  me 
when  I  pointed  out  what  a  bother  our  con- 
tinually recurring  presidential  elections  are — 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  83 

forever  disturbing  values  and  creating  a 
vulgar  excitement  throughout  the  country. 
Really  a  most  trying  young  woman.  From 
Kansas,  you  say? — really  very  trying. 
Quite  unlike  our  charming  Italian  friend.  I 
do  not  know,"  concluded  Mr.  Dodd,  re- 
lapsing into  his  usual  weariness,  '-when  I 
have  seen  a  young  lady  who  wore  upon  me 
less." 

A  day  or  two  afterward,  when  Cabell  and 
his  mother  returned  from  a  visit  to  San 
Martino,  they  found  two  cards  elaborately 
doubled  at  the  ends  and  embossed  over  the 
script  of  each  with  a  coronet.  To  have  thus 
missed  seeing  Signor  Visconti  and  his  niece 
gave  Cabell  a  mingled  feeling  of  relief  and 
disappointment.  He  said  nothing,  however, 
but  watched  his  mother's  careful  examina- 
tion of  the  cards. 

"  No  one  could  care  less  than  I  for  petty 
distinctions  of  rank,"  stated  Mrs.  Cabell, 
finally.  "  If  I  save  these  cards  to  show  to 
Mrs.  Bedell  and  a  few  others,  it  is  merely  to 
indicate  to  them  the  sort  of  people  we  met 


84  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

abroad.  I  don't  suppose  that  Orsini  him- 
self had  anything  more  than  a  coronet  on 
his  cards." 

A  little  later  in  the  week  Cabell  came  in 
one  afternoon  to  find  Piccarda  sitting  by  his 
mother's  fire.  The  six  green  sticks,  artfully 
criss-crossed  on  the  hearth,  cast  a  fitful  flush 
upon  her  cheeks  as  she  greeted  him.  Her 
fur  cape  was  thrown  back.  She  had  taken 
off  her  plumed  hat,  and  the  waving  of  her 
dark,  rust-touched  hair  showed  softly  at  the 
low  brows. 

"You  see  that  I  make  myself  at  home," 
she  smiled.  "  And  did  you  suspect  that  I 
was  here,  since  you  bring  such  a  big  bunch 
of  purple  flowers  ?  ' ' 

"Will  you  have  them?"  asked  Cabell, 
proffering  the  cluster,  and  quite  forgetting, 
through  excess  of  pleasure,  to  express  his 
satisfaction  in  seeing  her. 

Piccarda  shook  her  head,  making  with 
one  swift  hand  a  backward  gesture.  This 
apparently  signified  negation  of  an  emphatic 
sort,  for  she  said,  "  We  Neapolitans  — 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  85 

we  do  not  truly  love  flowers.  Me — I  do 
not  like  to  be  shut  up  with  them  in  a  room. 
They  make  me  sad.  I  think  of  the  dead. 
Of  cold  hands  full  of  white,  white  lilies  and 
the  sweet,  sick  blossoms  of  the  orange- 
tree." 

"  Orange  -  flowers  are  for  the  livihg, 
too  !"  said  Mrs.  Cabell.  "  When  you  are  a 
bride " 

"Ah,  then  !  "  said  Piccarda,  staring  into 
the  fire.  "  Then,  indeed,  I  shall  perhaps 
have  a  few  about  me. ' ' 

' '  You  are  not  like  Miss  McClaren  ?  You 
do  not  despise  marriage  ? ' '  asked  Mrs. 
Cabell. 

"Me?"  inquired  Piccarda,  surprised. 
' '  Why  should  I  ?  Why  should  anyone  ?  ' ' 

"  Miss  McClaren  thinks  it  narrows 
woman's  outlook,"  faltered  Mrs.  Cabell. 
Piccarda  studied  this  view  with  deep  medi- 
tation in  the  lines  of  her  eyelids. 

"  And  is  it  so  good  that  the  outlook 
should  be  wide?"  said  she.  "The  peaks 
of  a  far-off  mountain  —  what  are  they  to 


86  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

me?  I  love  better  the  grass  at  my  own 
door-step. ' ' 

This  sentiment  Cabell  felt  to  be  singu- 
larly beautiful  and  noble,  and  his  heart 
stirred  at  it  in  a  fashion  that  was  first  joyful, 
and  then  painful.  He  was  standing  at  the 
window  looking  out  upon  the  bay  and  the 
riven  sides  of  Vesuvius.  The  outer  view, 
however,  hardly  took  his  eye;  though  his 
back  was  toward  the  room  he  could  see, 
much  more  plainly  than  he  saw  sea  or  sky, 
the  slight  figure  seated  familiarly  at  his  fire- 
side. 

"  Do  you  know  what  we  have  planned  to 
do  to-morrow  ? ' '  his  mother  was  asking. 
"I  have  begged  Signorina  Visconti  to  go 
with  us  to  Pompeii,  and  she  has  promised. 
With  my  taste  for  the  antique  it  will  be  a 
great  experience  for  me.  Indeed,  the  dream 
of  my  young  life  will  be  accomplished  when 
I  set  foot  in  these  by-ways  of  the  ancient 
world!  " 

Cabell  expressed  his  gratification. 

"  It  is  particularly  good  in  you,"  he  said 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  87 

to  Piccarda.  "  For,  of  course,  it's  all  an 
old  story  to  you." 

"Oh,  I  have  not  been  so  often!  "  she 
admitted.  "  I  do  not  care  much  for  how 
they  lived  twenty  centuries  ago.  But  I  am 
glad  to  be  going  with  you.  It  shall  amuse 
me  to  see  you  pick  scraps  of  mosaic  from 
the  floors  and  hide  them  in  your  pockets  !  ' ' 

"  I  shall  get  you  to  pick  them  up,  so  that 
they  may  remind  me  of  something  nearer 
and  pleasanter  than  the  time  of  Augustus," 
Cabell  suggested. 

"Oh,  very  well!"  agreed  Piccarda. 
"Stealing  for  a  friend  —  that  makes  not 
much  of  a  sin!  n'e  vero?"  And  she 
added,  becoming  unexpectedly  grave,  "  I 
am  glad  you  have  asked  me  to  go  with  you 
to-morrow.  Later — later  I  might  not  be 
able  to — to  find  the  time. ' ' 


VI 


THAT  night,  when  Cabell  went  to  see  if 
Leilia  cared  to  accompany  them  upon  the 
projected  excursion,  he  found  Burbridge  ly- 
ing among  the  green  silk  cushions  of  the 
divan,  large-eyed  and  feverish. 

"  His  throat  is  wrong  again,"  explained 
Leilia,  putting  down  the  book  from  which 
she  had  been  reading  aloud  the  story  of  a 
certain  mongoose.  "Naples  has  been  un- 
usually cold.  I  am  afraid  I  should  have 
gone  to  Egypt  or  the  Riviera.  Pompeii  ? 
No,  Dick.  I  had  better  not  think  of  it. 
And  since  Piccarda  is  to  be  one  of  the  par- 
ty I  am  not  afraid  of  being  missed."  She 
added,  presently,  "  I  am  not  altogether  glad 
that  Piccarda  is  going  with  you." 

Cabell  started. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  89 

"I  myself  am  particularly  glad,"  he  ex- 
claimed. Leilia  looked  at  him,  folding  her 
hands  in  the  lap  of  her  long  shining  gown. 
She  did  not  speak  as  she  regarded  him, 
smiling  a  little  in  a  musing  way  which  pro- 
voked him. 

"I  hope,"  he  protested,  flushing,  "that 
you  do  not  think  me  quite  a  fool  ?  I  do 
not  pretend  to  extraordinary  capacity,  but 
I  believe  I  might  be  able  to  drive  ducks  to 
water  if  any  one  should  intrust  me  with  the 
mission." 

"  I  should  think  you  quite  hopelessly  un- 
intelligent," said  Leilia,  continuing  to  smile, 
"if  you  could  be  indifferent  to  Piccarda." 
She  changed  the  subject,  and  shortly  after- 
ward Cabell,  pacing  through  the  lamp-lighted 
expanse  of  the  Piazza,  had  a  growing  con- 
viction that  Leilia  had  actually  presumed  to 
administer  to  him  a  word  of  friendly  warn- 
ing. It  made  him  rather  resentful  to  think 
that  his  cousin  should  entirely  fail  to  per- 
ceive the  delicate  difference  between  a  sen- 
timent purely  ideal  and  one  of  a  more  com- 


90  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

mon  and  active  nature ;  and  as  he  stood 
looking  at  the  arc  of  starry  gold  cast  by  the 
lamps  of  the  Via  Caracciolo  upon  the  dark 
waters  beyond  the  sea  curb,  he  laughed  with 
amused  disgust  to  think  that  he  should  be 
presenting  to  Leilia,  or  to  any  one,  the  pa- 
thetic pageant  of  a  bleeding  heart. 

The  next  day,  however,  was  a  day  of  such 
exceeding  clearness  that  Cabell  forgot,  in 
the  persuasive  brightness  of  the  skies,  every- 
thing except  the  beauty  and  strangeness  of 
the  green  old  fields  beyond  the  city,  and  the 
beauty  and  strangeness  of  Piccarda's  presence 
beside  him  in  the  coach.  The  bay  kept  fol- 
lowing them  on  the  right,  blue  and  shoaling 
into  frothy  white  as  it  reproduced  the  azure 
of  the  sky  and  the  airy  foam  of  the  count- 
less little  clouds.  Low  tracts  of  furrow- 
fluted  soil  reached  from  the  sea,  disclosing 
ancient  well-sweeps  here  and  there,  and 
rough  stucco  houses  with  a  white  cross 
rudely  daubed  above  the  doors,  and  groves 
of  olive-trees,  twisted  and  silvery,  and  firs, 
so  stripped  of  foliage  that  only  a  dark  disk 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  91 

balanced  on  the  summits  of  the  slender 
trunks.  The  dense,  small  towns  they  passed, 
built  often  on  the  eaves  of  towns  forgotten, 
were  low  piles  of  solid-looking  yellow  stone, 
with  sometimes  a  graceful  arch  above  a 
niche  of  portico,  which  ran  over  in  green 
vines,  or  in  golden  fringes  of  drying  spa- 
ghetti. Nothing  new  and  spruce  rose  any- 
where in  sight  along  the  aged  country-side, 
until  the  train  stopped  at  Pompeii  itself,  and 
the  roof  of  the  modern  little  station  came 
in  view. 

Beyond  it,  through  a  frail  lattice  of  winter 
trees,  the  hoar  and  crumbling  ruins  showed 
themselves  above  a  high  green  bank,  facing 
the  vaporous  crests  of  distant  purple  hills,  at 
the  feet  of  which,  like  sown  pearls,  houses 
and  hamlets  glistened  white  and  far.  The 
sea  was  a  reach  of  sapphire  winged  with 
swelling  lateen  sails.  Rising  from  it,  the 
dark  bulk  of  Vesuvius  had  a  look  of  menace 
under  the  downward  trend  of  a  current  of 
smoke  which  had  almost  obscured  the  deli- 
cate zigzag  line  of  roadway  marking  the 


92  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

brown  steep  as  with  a  braiding  of  silver. 
Two  inns  stared  sleepily  between  the  sta- 
tion and  the  walls  of  Pompeii.  In  the 
sunken  fields  below  the  road,  cotton  was 
growing,  and  in  the  road  itself  two  coun- 
trymen in  donkey-carts  chatted  idly.  A 
dark-faced  baby  slept  among  the  vegetables 
in  one  of  the  wagons ;  behind  it  tramped 
a  woman  whose  black  head  was  bound 
in  dusky  yellow,  and  whose  coppery  heels 
shone  bare  in  her  backless  slippers. 

"  The  old  life  and  the  new  come  close 
together  here,"  said  Piccarda.  "Things 
do  not  much  alter.  Those  who  lived  yon- 
der were  as  wise  as  we." 

"  Oh,  my  dear!  "  demurred  Mrs.  Cabell. 
' '  They  did  not  know  about  the  planets  mov- 
ing and  the  attraction  of  matter  !  ' ' 

"And  such  civilizing  influences  as  gun- 
powder and  the  printing  -  press  weren't 
thought  of !  "  laughed  Cabell. 

"So  much  the  better  for  them,"  main- 
tained Piccarda,  lightly,  "  if  there  were 
fewer  things  to  know." 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  93 

They  had  come  to  the  small  lodge  at  the 
gates,  beyond  which  the  road  rises  in  deep, 
vine-clad  banks.  At  the  turn  of  this  way 
Piccarda  stopped,  with  a  pointing  hand. 

''Behold!"  she  cried,  "we  are  at  the 
gate  of  the  sea  !  Look,  now,  Mrs.  Cabell ! 
you  stand  on  the  very  stones  with  Caesar." 

Mrs.  Cabell  looked  about,  trembling. 
Her  fair  old  face  wore  a  mute,  exalted  ex- 
pression as  she  passed  below  the  heavy  gray 
arch,  and  entered  the  narrow  upward  walk 
between  whose  immemorial  stones  globules 
of  green  moss  oozed  fresh  and  bright. 

"I  am  greatly  moved,"  said  Mrs.  Cabell, 
pausing.  "  Perhaps  this  is  the  very  road 
by  which  Glaucus  escaped  ? — what  a  solemn 
thought ! — or  Nydia  ? — stifled  with  smoke 
and  ashes  !  To  a  nature  as  sensitive  as 
mine,  recollection  of  these  things  is  over- 
whelming. ' '  Piccarda  took  her  thin  hand 
gently. 

"  They  would  anyway  be  dead  long  ago — 
Glaucus — and — the  other  one.  Oh,  long 
ago  !  "  she  whispered,  consolingly.  "  Do 


94  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONT1 

not  grieve  :  for  after  all  they  have  escaped 
— did  you  not  say  so  ?  " 

They  had  come  into  a  region  of  roofless 
walls,  and  broken  pillars,  and  straight,  nar- 
row causeways,  gray,  pallid,  silent,  worn  by 
the  ages  to  a  peculiar  suavity  of  line  and 
tone.  Upon  one  side  a  great  court,  set  with 
fragmentary  columns,  and  carpeted  with  the 
diaphanous  moss  which  also  veiled  the  outer 
walks,  ranged  open  to  the  soft  sky.  In  places 
among  the  shattered  pillars  a  fallen  capital 
kept  still  the  exquisite  chiselling  of  a  laurel 
bough,  a  wide-lipped  mask,  or  drooping 
garland  of  thick-strung  roses;  and  these, 
too,  were  gray — leaf,  face,  and  flower — like 
the  ruinous  walls,  with  the  mournful  gray- 
ness  of  lichens  which  clothe  old  wood. 

Everywhere  streets,  narrow  as  the  narrow- 
est cross-streets  of  Naples,  struck  from  the 
long  vacancy  of  the  forum,  crossing  each 
other  with  the  simple  regularity  of  avenues 
in  a  new  western  town.  Foot-high  curbs 
lifted  the  straight  walks,  and  near  the  cor- 
ners were  square  stepping-stones,  and  occa- 


ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI  95 

sionally  a  drinking-fountain,  decorated  with 
the  head  of  a  god,  whose  mouth  still  widened 
for  the  issue  of  the  stream  which  had  ceased 
flowing  thence  when  the  world  was  young. 

In  the  stone  ridge  of  one  of  these  basins, 
Piccarda  pointed  out  the  hollow,  worn  away 
by  the  hands  of  those  who  long  ago  leaned 
there  to  drink. 

"So!"  she  explained,  with  her  own 
hand  in  the  hollow,  and  with  her  bright, 
warm  cheek  against  the  stone  cheek  of  the 
god.  "  Fancy  me  the  daughter  of  the  man 
who  keeps  the  wine-shop  yonder  where 
those  amphorae  stand  in  a  row  !  I  tire  of 
Falernian.  I  come  to  drink  of  water.  See 
me  ?  See  my  long  white  stola,  my  heaps 
of  little  curls  ?  ' '  She  laughed  lightly 
and  lifted  a  finger,  saying:  "Hush!  I 
drink  no  more ;  I  stand  back  ;  I  have  heard 
the  approach  of  a  band  of  lictors.  Look  ! 
they  make  way  for  a  magistrate !  In  a 
little  moment  he  will  be  in  sight,  and  you 
shall  see  how  his  garments  are  purple,  his 
head  bound  with  bay.  I — even  I,  who  see 


96  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

all  this  daily — I  am  scared  at  the  sight  of 
his  gold  sceptre  with  its  sign  of  the  sacred 
bird  !  ' '  She  retreated  a  step  or  so,  feigning 
awe,  with  a  hand  upon  her  heart,  with  her 
blue,  dark  eyes  upon  an  unseen  procession 
coming  in  soundless,  sandalled  paces  along 
the  chariot-rutted  street.  Though  her  figure 
was  so  modern  of  outline  and  attire,  yet,  in 
the  delicate  aquiline  precision  of  her  listen- 
ing profile,  for  once  untouched  by  smiles, 
some  hint  of  Roman  pride,  and  austerity, 
and  steadfastness  revealed  itself  to  Cabell's 
perceptions  as  he  watched  the  little  play  of 
times  foredone. 

"  Basta  !  basta  !  "  cried  Piccarda,  coming 
gayly  to  herself  again  and  leading  the  way 
through  the  remnant  of  a  noble  house,  with 
certain  streaks  of  deep  red  and  brilliant  yellow 
still  glorifying  its  broken  walls,  to  a  temple 
over  whose  fluted  columns  and  crumbling 
altars  of  sacrifice  a  heavenly  azure  hung  like 
a  canopy  of  silk.  Here  was  a  ponderous 
basement  on  which  once  stood  the  lovely 
shape  of  Venus  ;  and  there,  among  the  peb- 


ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI  97 

bles,  and  mosses,  and  dull  rapilli,  were  other 
broken  marbles,  wrought  in  oak-wreaths 
and  laurels,  in  charming  arabesques,  in  heads 
of  sacrificial  rams,  filletted  and  garlanded ; 
while  beyond  an  adjacent  threshold,  a 
glancing  mosaic,  white  and  black  and  tur- 
quoise, spread  an  imperishable  sheen,  lustrous 
still,  though  sunken  and  depleted. 

"  But  do  not  stop  here,"  besought  Pic- 
carda,  observing  Cabell  lose  himself  in  the 
massy  sculpture  of  a  lintel  hard  by.  "  What 
is  best  to  see  I  have  saved  till  now.  Listen  ! 
do  you  hear  a  noise  of  voices? — of  spades? 
Come  !  I  shall  show  you  something." 

A  low  hill  rose  near,  and  they  began  the 
ascent ;  but  even  before  they  had  got  them- 
selves to  the  brow  of  the  rise  Cabell  drew 
up  with  an  exclamation.  Just  ahead,  and  a 
little  way  below  the  surface  of  the  road,  the 
excavation  of  a  splendid  house  was  in  prog- 
ress, and  the  sudden  sight  of  its  rising  walls, 
and  frescoed  arches,  and  slight  and  heavy 
columns  and  pilasters,  struck  the  eye  with  a 
strange,  illusory  effect.  Two  officers  of  the 
7 


98  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

government  were  in  charge  of  the  operations, 
which  seemed  as  if  being  executed  by  a 
number  of  swarthy,  barefooted  boys  in  red 
caps.  Some  of  these,  kneeling,  filled  their 
flat  baskets  with  handfuls  of  the  dark,  moist 
soil,  which,  like  banks  of  iron  filings,  ruddy 
and  coarse  of  grain,  piled  itself  against  the 
half-uncovered  walls.  Others,  in  a  slowly 
moving  procession,  like  a  row  of  figures  on 
an  antique  frieze,  each  bearing  a  laden 
wicker  tray  upon  his  head,  wended  up  a  low 
hillside,  on  the  summit  of  which  stood  a  flat 
car  heaped  with  earth. 

In  his  first  glance  Cabell  saw  a  row  of 
massive  pillars  bearing  up  a  cornice  fes- 
tooned with  flaring  flowers  of  deep  brown  and 
traced  with  airy  spirals  and  floating  scrolls  of 
black.  To  the  right,  three  walls  of  a  large 
room,  brilliant  with  color,  sprung  from  the 
dust,  fresh  as  if  the  painter's  brush-strokes 
had  not  yet  dried  in  the  lovely  vermilion 
and  amber.  Rippling  streamers  and  clus- 
tered blossoms  bordered  the  glowing  spaces  ; 
and  as  momently  the  curtain  of  darkness 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  99 

and  oblivion  fell  away,  here  and  there  a 
panel  unfolded  some  vivid  picture  of  faun 
and  nymph,  of  the  child  Bacchus  laughing 
through  his  viny  curls,  of  little  loves  rioting 
in  a  wind  of  roses,  of  Silenus  drawn  drunken 
in  a  troop  of  dryads,  of  Pan,  piping  to  him- 
self in  a  sylvan  solitude.  Broken  and 
patched  with  new  cement  along  the  edges, 
one  portion  of  a  wall  bore  upon  a  black 
ground,  sombre  and  dull,  the  slight,  exquisite 
figure  of  a  dancing  girl,  half-veiled  in  misty 
blue,  and  poised  in  an  attitude  of  incom- 
parable grace.  Adjoining  it  the  panel  was 
frayed  into  mere  strips  of  color,  interspersed 
with  long  splashes  of  mortar ;  here  the  slen- 
der, girlish  shape  was  almost  lost,  showing 
only  the  arch  of  a  springing  foot,  the  curve 
of  a  light  ankle,  the  flowing  end  of  a  gar- 
ment rosy  and  vaporous  as  the  dawn. 

Constantly  the  rich  red  earth  yielded  up 
signs  and  symbols  of  another  time.  Two 
slim  pillars,  white  as  snow  and  twisted 
round  with  laurel,  grew  taller  under  the 
watchers'  eyes.  Little  vases  of  copper, 


ioo  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

blotched  with  blue,  coins  of  the  old  world, 
a  bronze  strigile,  a  metal  hand-mirror,  an- 
cient crystals,  thin  and  iridescent,  a  silver 
armlet,  trinkets  of  blackened  ivory — such 
things  as  these,  turned  up  by  the  boys' 
hands  in  the  crumbling  soil,  lay  in  a  pile 
upon  a  block  of  tufa. 

The  bright,  dry  green  of  the  small  bronzes 
seemed  to  give  the  color-note  to  the  soft 
valleys  and  sunny  hillsides  stretching  every- 
where in  sight.  The  sky  hung  low  and 
mild.  The  sea  lay  near,  a  bland  sheet  of 
waveless  blue.  Whoever  had  builded  this 
dwelling  that  now  rendered  its  bright  page 
to  curious  modern  inspection,  had  probably 
selected  his  site  with  regard  to  the  beauty 
of  the  broad  Campanian  Bay,  sweeping  its 
shining  waters  through  the  fruitful  lowlands 
below  the  Roman  town. 

"He  was  fortunate,"  mused  Cabell,  "to 
be  able  to  command  such  an  outlook." 

"It  is  beautiful  enough,"  replied  Pic- 
carda,  gravely.  "And  yet — perhaps  he 
was  not  so  happy  as  you  think.  A  fine 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  101 

view  ! — does  that  make  happiness  ?  Suppose 
he  had  not  health  or  friends  that  loved 
him  ?  To  be  always  joyful — is  it  so  com- 
mon in  these  days?  Perhaps  in  other  days 
people  have  been  quite  as  discontented. — 
Look  how  your  mother  fills  her  pocket 
with  pebbles !  The  human  does  not  so 
much  change.  What  you  feel,  he  felt,  too 
— he  that  fastened  his  toga  or  tunic  with 
that  fibula  they  have  just  dug  out !  " 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  we  are  particu- 
larly happy  in  this  generation  ?  ' '  asked  Ca- 
bell,  leaning  on  the  wall  which  kept  visitors 
from  intruding  upon  the  excavations.  Pic- 
carda  looked  at  him,  seeming  to  study,  in 
a  far,  impersonal  way,  the  keen  lines  and 
dark  tints  of  his  questioning  face. 

"  We  think  too  much,"  she  said,  finally, 
with  a  sagacious  air.  "How  can  anyone 
be  happy  so  ?  Me — just  lately  I  made  myself 
very  sad  by  thinking  day  and  night  upon 
something  which  it  was  my  duty  to  do,  and 
which  I  did  not  quite  wish  to  do.  When  I 
went  with  Lei  Ha  to  Algiers  there  were  two 


102  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

nights  that  I  lay  awake,  studying  over  this 
thing.  And,  at  last,  I  said  to  myself,  '  Eh, 
Dio !  you  are  not  a  man,  a  philosopher,  a 
deep,  wise  being,  made  for  these  reasonings  ! 
You  are  a  woman,  only  a  woman,  whom 
the  blessed  Lord  meant  should  never  trou- 
ble herself  with  much  hard  thought.  Strive 
no  more.  Do  the  thing  that  seems  right 
and  be  at  peace.'  And  at  once  my  heart 
felt  at  ease  again ;  it  is  always  so  when  one 
decides  to  yield  to  what  is  just  and  good." 

Cabell  had  nothing  to  oppose  to  this 
highly  correct  moral  sentiment,  and  his 
attention  was,  moreover,  partly  engrossed 
by  the  approach  of  three  men,  who,  as 
they  sauntered  up  the  hill,  spoke  together 
in  voluble  Italian,  laughing  a  little,  as  if 
at  some  passing  jest.  Two  of  them  were 
officers  of  the  army,  imposing  in  the  hand- 
some uniform  of  Italy.  The  third,  a  dark 
young  man  of  rather  striking  and  authorita- 
tive presence,  was  dressed  in  the  English 
mode,  but  wore  his  black  mustache  turned 
disdainfully  upward  at  the  ends  after  the 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  103 

military  fashion  of  the  country.  They  had 
quite  reached  the  line  of  the  excavations 
before  Piccarda  turned;  and  as  she  did 
so,  and  perceived  them,  Cabell  was  sur- 
prised to  see  her  start,  though  in  an 
almost  imperceptible  way,  while  a  faint 
color  swept  her  cheeks.  She  inclined  her 
head  with  an  air  of  friendliness  to  the 
strangers,  who,  as  she  went  on  down  the 
hilly  walk  with  Cabell  and  his  mother, 
stood  bareheaded,  in  attitudes  of  profound- 
est  courtesy.  Something  in  the  gaze  of  the 
man  who  wore  civilian's  attire  struck  Cabell 
disagreeably ;  and  that  little  unaccountable 
flush  of  Piccarda's  also  troubled  his  reflec- 
tions. When  they  came  into  the  level 
streets  below  the  knoll,  and  he  glanced  fur- 
tively at  Piccarda  to  see  if  she  bore  still  any 
slight  aspect  of  confusion,  he  was  not  reas- 
sured to  find  her  abstracted  and  a  little  pale. 
As  he  looked  she  paused  and,  with  an  air 
of  weariness,  laid  her  hand  upon  an  ashen 
pile  of  ancient  concrete  hard  by. 

"I  meant,"  she  said,  rather  slowly  and 


104  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

absently,  "  to  take  you  up  to  the  town  wall 
so  that  you  might  have  a  glimpse  of  the 
Street  of  the  Tombs,  and  the  mountains  of 
Castellammare  and  the  plain  where  the  old 
Oscan  graves  are.  But  I  have  begun  to  be 
very  very  tired.  Perhaps  we  had  better  walk 
no  farther." 


VII 

IN  the  days  following  their  little  journey  to 
the  old  Campanian  town,  and  Cabell's  rec- 
ognition of  the  fact  that,  after  all,  his  sen- 
timent toward  Signer  Visconti's  niece  was 
less  abstract  than  he  had  fancied,  the  young 
man  found  himself  with  a  great  sufficiency  of 
time  for  dwelling  upon  every  phase  of  the 
subject. 

The  weather  had  changed.  Cold,  dis- 
piriting drizzles  set  in,  and  more  than  once 
a  ghostly  fall  of  snow  shrouded  the  bay  in  a 
silvery  mist,  and  whirled  in  a  greenish  veil 
around  the  tall  palms  of  the  national  gardens. 

People  sat  all  day  in  the  court  of  the  hotel, 
rattling  newspapers,  writing  letters,  com- 
plaining of  the  climate.  Very  few  were  left, 
however,  to  commiserate  one  another  on  the 


106  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

lack  of  sunshine,  for  the  first  cloud  had 
brought  about  a  general  flitting,  and  of  the 
faces  Cabell  had  grown  familiar  with  on 
ship-board,  only  Mr.  Dodd's  remained. 

"  The  weather,"  remarked  Mr.  Dodd,  one 
morning  along  in  January,  "  is,  of  course, 
damnable.  I  don't  mind  it  myself,  for  I 
have  grown  accustomed  to  being  in  places 
always  a  little  out  of  season.  At  such  times 
the  climate  is  usually  terrible ;  but  one  avoids 
Americans,  don't  you  know." 

"  If  Miss  McClaren  could  hear  this  patri- 
otic sentiment ' ' 

"Thank  God  she  cannot!"  ejaculated 
Mr.  Dodd,  laying  nervously  hold  of  his 
beard.  "  Did  I  tell  you  that  I  met  her  yes- 
terday on  one  of  Gaze's  boats?  Yes.  We 
got  on  quite  peaceably  till  she  mentioned 
that  she  would  shortly  leave  for  Rome,  and 
I  suggested  that  she  would  find  it  more  en- 
joyable a  little  later,  when  the  king  and 
queen  ride  out  daily.  I  said  it  was  charm- 
ing to  see  the  queen — who  is  really  a  very 
interesting  person,  don't  you  know — lean 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  107 

forward,  and  smile,  and  bow  to  the  people. 
She  does  it  in  a  singularly  fetching  way ! 
And  I  added  a  word  of  regret  that  America 
lacked,  as  yet,  all  these  pretty  pomps  and 
ceremonies.  I  assure  you  that  she  de- 
nounced me.  Ah  !  Pardon  me. ' '  He  drew 
away.  A  small  boy  in  buttons  had  ap- 
proached with  a  note,  which,  as  Cabell 
glanced  over  its  contents,  informed  him 
that  Leilia  wished  to  see  him  as  soon  as 
might  be. 

It  was  with  a  certain  alarm  that  he  crossed 
the  Corso  and  mounted  to  her  apartment ; 
nor  was  he  reassured,  upon  entering,  to  see, 
in  the  middle  of  the  tiny  reception  room,  a 
professional  looking  man,  who,  as  he  drew 
on  his  gloves,  seemed  to  be  speaking  to  Leilia 
in  a  consolatory  way. 

"  I  should  say  that  there  is  no  necessity 
for  any  apprehension — er — at  present,"  he 
repeated.  "You  will  find  him  quite  com- 
fortable in  an  hour  or  so."  And  he  inclined 
himself  politely  to  Leilia,  who  leaned  against 
the  mantel,  with  her  hand  over  her  eyes. 


io8  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

As  the  curtains  fell  upon  him  Leilia  lifted 
a  tearful  face  to  Cabell. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  murmured,  "  Bur  has  been  so 
ill ! — for  awhile  he  seemed  as  if  he  could 
not  breathe — a  sudden  attack."  She  mo- 
tioned him  to  follow  her,  and  led  the  way 
into  a  little  white  room  beyond,  in  which 
a  maid  in  a  frilled  cap  was  stirring,  and 
Bur  lay  among  his  pillows,  feverish  and 
talkative. 

"  Qui  est-ce?"  he  cried.  Recognizing 
Cabell  he  held  out  a  hot  small  hand.  "  But 
I  am  ashamed  !  "  he  sighed,  "to  be  ill  like 
a  baby.  Ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  que  je  suis  enfant ! 
It  is  awkward,  awkward.  M'man  is  right. 
I  shall  never,  never  be  un  homme  comme  il 
faut !  "  There  was  a  heavy  drowsiness  in 
his  tone  as  he  murmured  on  in  a  lisping 
mixture  of  tongues ;  and  presently,  still 
holding  Cabell's  hand  tightly  in  his  dry 
fingers,  he  fell  asleep.  Leilia  gave  a  breath 
of  relief. 

"He  is  certainly  better,"  she  said. 
"  The  doctor  was  right.  Oh,  what  a  blessed, 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  109 

blessed  thing  to  see  him  resting  so  quietly  !  " 
She  threw  herself  into  a  chair  as  if  exhausted, 
adding:  "  I  wish  Aunt  Virginia  would  come 
over.  She  would  know  if  he  is  really  im- 
proving; but  I  feared  you  would  not  be 
pleased  if  I  sent  for  her  so  early  in  the  day. 
May  she  come,  Dick  ?  And  there  is  another 
thing  you  can  do  for  me  if  you  want  to  be 
kind  to  a  woman  who  has  been  up  all  night 
and  is  quite  worn  out  with  anxiety.  Pic- 
carda  and  I  were  going  somewhere  at  eleven 
o'clock.  Send  some  one  to  explain  why  I 
cannot  stop  for  her  as  we  had  arranged.  I 
can't  write.  Do  it  for  me,  Dick  !  or  if  you 
are  going  down  town,  as  we  say  at  home, 
stop  a  moment  at  the  Palazzo  and  tell  her 
yourself  how  troubled  I  have  been." 
"  Certainly.  If  you  will  direct  me." 
"  What !  you  do  not  know  the  house?  " 
"  No,"  said  Cabell,  setting  a  half- whim- 
sical glance  on  the  fire  in  remembering 
Leilia's  word  of  caution,  "  I  have  stu- 
diously avoided  looking  for  it.  You  can 
see  that  it  would  only  have  added  to  my 


no  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

discomfort  to  go  and  stand  in  the  shadow 
of  the  palace  where  she  lives.  Every  stone 
of  those  splendid  walls  would  symbolize  for 
me  the  countless  barriers  existing  between 
a  beautiful,  high-born  lady,  sprung  from  a 
line  of  crusaders,  and  cardinals,  and  such, 
and  an  obscure  young  barrister  with  an  in- 
considerable income.  No.  I  haven't  sought 
out  the  Palazzo." 

"  Bah  !  "  smiled  Leilia,  faintly.  "  I  un- 
derstand that  in  Kentucky  you  are  con- 
sidered a  person  of  promise.  They  will 
probably  send  you  to  Congress. ' ' 

"  I  have  no  aspirations  in  that  line," 
Cabell  said,  rising,  "  though  I  remember 
setting  off  an  anvil  and  going  mad  in  a  boy- 
ish ecstasy  of  triumph  some  years  since, 
when  a  Kentuckian  was  elected  Speaker  of 
the  House.  For  myself,  however,  I've 
planned  out  a  life  quiet  and  contemplative 
— the  secluded  violet  sort  of  thing,  you 
know — which  appeals  so  strongly  to  the 
stricken  heart !  Like  the  early  singers  of 
this  damp,  deceptive  land,  like  Cavalcanti, 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  in 

and  Cino  da  Pistoia,  and  the  lover  of  Bea- 
trice, I  shall  cherish  an  ideal,  a  sovereign 
mistress,  a  right  high  and  holy  lady ' ' 

"Dick!  how  you  go  on!  and  I  really 
thought  that  perhaps  you — but  it  isn't  worth 
discussing.  Do  you  see  what  time  it  is  ? — 
nearly  eleven." 

When  Cabell  came  into  the  street  which 
Leilia  had  indicated  as  the  whereabouts  of 
the  Palazzo  Visconti,  he  was  taken  aback, 
in  spite  of  her  description  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, to  find  along  the  curb  which  rimmed 
the  bay  a  collection  of  market  carts  and 
vegetable  stalls.  A  swarm  of  buyers  and 
sellers,  voluble  and  excited,  harangued  each 
other  over  piles  of  salad  stuff  and  pans  of 
cracking  chestnuts ;  children  ran  every- 
where under  foot,  blending  their  shrill  out- 
cries with  the  plaints  of  donkeys,  the  shouts 
of  tradesmen  and  the  shrill  fluting  of  a  man, 
who,  with  his  legs  criss-crossed  to  the  knees 
in  strips  of  red  cotton,  stood  surrounded 
by  idlers  across  from  the  sea-verge.  After 
some  moments  of  inspection,  Cabell  came  to 


112  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

the  conclusion  that  the  wide  stone  archway 
against  the  pilaster,  of  which  the  musician 
supported  himself,  must  belong  to  the  Pa- 
lazzo Visconti.  The  walls  of  the  place 
looked  certainly  quite  as  ancient  as  he  had 
figured  them,  being  rough  and  massive 
enough  for  a  stronghold  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Indeed,  as  he  glanced  up,  he  half  expected 
to  see  windows  like  the  narrow  outlooks  of 
a  fortification  peering  grimly  down  upon 
him  from  the  rocky  facade;  instead  of 
this,  however,  he  was  confronted  with  noth- 
ing more  formidable  than  several  rows  of 
faded  green  shutters,  hanging,  some  of  them 
a  little  awry  ;  while  upon  each  side  of  the 
pile  of  gray  old  masonry,  rickety  struct- 
ures of  pink  stucco  reared  their  dilapitated 
shapes,  strung  from  window  to  window  with 
a  ragged  wash  or  two,  and  having  an  oc- 
casional tuft  of  cotton  in  the  place  of  a 
broken  pane. 

For  all  the  meanness  of  its  neighbors,  the 
old  palace  was  not  without  dignity ;  its 
gateway  was  broad  and  heavy,  and  beyond 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  113 

it  a  deep  passage  led  into  a  flagged,  dark 
court,  around  which  Cabell  could  see  other 
ponderous  walls  and  lines  of  sunken  panes. 
Many  of  the  paving-stones  were  broken  or 
tipped  out  of-  plumb,  and  in  the  hollows 
stood  pools  of  water  around  which  the  vis- 
itor had  to  pick  his  way  in  approaching  the 
great  stone  staircase  on  the  right.  In  the 
embrasure  of  these  steps  a  man  in  faded 
overalls  was  grooming  a  horse.  He  paused 
in  his  occupation,  and,  bent  half  over,  with 
a  dripping  sponge  in  his  hand,  lifted  an  in- 
quiring old  face  which  Cabell  recognized  as 
that  of  the  personage  usually  occupying  in 
dove-colored  livery  the  box  of  the  Visconti 
equipage. 

This  functionary  of  the  house  put  down 
his  sponge,  wiped  his  hands  on  his  hips,  and 
taking  Cabell's  card  between  two  rheumatic 
fingers,  motioned  him  to  follow. 

Up  the  time-worn  steps  they  went  slowly. 
From  the  open  roof  above  a  streak  of  capri- 
cious sunshine  fell  down  upon  the  hoar  inner 
walls,  picking  out  flecks  of  greenish  gold 


114  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

along  the  baluster,  and  a  variety  of  colors  in 
the  patched  garments  of  Cabell's  convoy. 
At  the  first  landing  a  passage  opened  upon  a 
little  stone  room  like  a  cell,  in  which  a  desk 
stood,  and  through  the  single  open  window 
of  which  stole  the  fresh  odors  of  a  cavernous 
garden,  all  terraced  with  mossy  slabs  and 
growing  with  unkempt  grass  and  a  clump  of 
orange-trees.  Deep  in  the  jungle  of  dark, 
damp  green,  springing  with  its  stalks  of 
golden  fruit,  Cabell,  left  by  himself  in  the 
ante-room,  saw  a  dry,  lichen-padded  fountain 
base,  in  the  middle  of  which  stood  a  mar- 
ble cupid,  cracked  and  yellow,  with  a  sheaf 
of  time-blunted  arrows  across  his  dusky, 
dimpled  shoulder.  From  the  smile  of  this 
mossgrown  love,  Cabell  was  recalled  by  the 
footsteps  of  the  servant,  who  ushered  him 
into  a  vast  apartment  hung  with  dim,  faded 
tapestries,  and  commanding  through  the 
loopings  of  its  heavy  curtains  little  glimpses 
of  the  bay,  shot  with  the  white  sails  of  innu- 
merable fisherboats. 

Contrasted  with  these  narrow  slips  of  sky 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  115 

and  sea,  the  gloom  of  the  interior,  with  its 
few  massive  chairs  and  isolated  central  divan, 
was  at  first  so  intense  as  scarcely  to  permit 
the  figures  in  the  lofty  ceilings  to  disclose 
their  outlines.  It  was  only  after  a  moment 
that  the  vague  mixtures  of  dull  reds  and 
blues  overhead  and  along  the  walls  began  to 
show  here  a  lifted  face,  there  a  prayerful 
hand,  everywhere  a  slowly  wakening  life. 
In  the  lessening  darkness  Cabell  was  becom- 
ing aware  that  a  lady  with  a  pretty  heart- 
shaped  face,  pearl-threaded  hair,  and  an 
astonishing  ruff  was  regarding  him  from  a 
frame  of  gold  ribbons  just  opposite,  when 
the  curtains  of  the  door  stirred  a  little  and 
Piccarda  came  in,  smiling,  extending  her 
hand,  startling  the  shadows,  waking  the 
silence. 

When,  however,  she  heard  what  Cabell 
had  to  say  the  light  left  her  face.  She  laid 
her  palms  suddenly  together,  and  said,  "  But 
I  ought  not  to  feel  surprised.  I  have  felt 
it  would  be  so  with  the  little  one — with 
Bur.  He  will  not  get  well."  And  as 


Il6  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

Cabell  began  gently  to  expostulate,  she  went 
on,  saying,  "  I  know,  I  know  how  it  will  be  ! 
I  have  read  it  all  in  the  face  of  the  doctor 
at  Algiers.  He  said  little,  only  a  nod,  a 
look.  Leilia  would  not  understand.  Me 
— I  have  understood  that  it  is  too  long 
that  Bur's  throat  is  weak.  It  is  no  longer 
only  a  weak  throat.  Oh,  poor  little  child  !  " 
There  fell  a  sorrowful  sort  of  silence. 

"  Then/'  murmured  Cabell,  strangely  im- 
pressed, "  Fanning  has  got  to  know  about 
it."  He  had  not  realized  that  he  spoke 
aloud  till  he  met  Piccarda's  eyes  fixed  upon 
him  in  a  kind  of  comprehending  and  sym- 
pathetic way.  Her  lips  moved. 
"Yes  ...  but  ..." 
"  I  know,"  breathed  Cabell,  seeing  that 
in  her  mind  also  there  struggled  some  misty 
sense  that  Fanning's  coming  would  mean  any- 
thing but  comfort  and  support  to  the  wom- 
an over  whom  this  shadow  seemed  to  hang. 
Piccarda  leaned  forward,  supporting  her  chin 
in  a  thoughtful  hand,  and  staring  through 
the  shadowy  space  with  troubled  eyes. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  117 

"  I  can  see  nothing  plainly  any  more," 
she  said,  almost  sharply.  "Everything 
baffles,  baffles  ! — and  not  so  long  ago  things 
seemed  clear  enough."  She  tossed  off  a  sig- 
nificant gesture.  "  Perhaps  Leilia  needs 
him  more  than  she  suspects  now  that  her 
skies  are  fair.  In  time  of  storm — then  a 
woman  must  always  feel  how  weak  a  thing 
God  has  made  her.  He  must  come  to  her — 
Mr.  Fanning." 

Cabell  rose.  "  Yes,"  he  agreed,  simply ; 
but  his  mind  dwelt  on  Fanning's  right  to 
hear  of  the  sorrow  which  menaced  his  house, 
rather  than  upon  anything  so  doubtful  as 
Leila's  need  of  her  husband,  whatever  might 
befall. 

On  his  way  home  he  sent  Fanning  a 
message.  He  knew  that  there  was  a  certain 
degree  of  officiousness  in  this  proceeding, 
but  he  felt  himself  quite  justified  until  a  day 
or  so  after,  when  Leilia  showed  him  Fan- 
ning's reply  to  the  cablegram. 

"  He  will  sail  on  the  first  steamer,  you 
see,"  said  Leilia,  quietly.  "  I  suppose  you 


n8  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

felt  that  you  were  quite  right  in  taking  such 
a  step  without  consulting  me?  " 

Cabell  looked  at  Burbridge  sitting  in  the 
sunshine  of  the  window,  with  his  sketch-book 
open  on  his  slim  black  legs.  The  boy  was  a 
little  pale,  but  there  was  about  him  no  sign 
of  illness  more  alarming  than  his  lack  of 
color,  and  Cabell  recognized  his  own  posi- 
tion as  somewhat  embarrassing. 

"  My  interference  seems  very  questiona- 
ble," he  admitted.  "  But  I  felt  that  if  any- 
thing happened " 

' '  Happen  ? — what  should  happen  ?  ' ' 

"  Weren't  you  a  little  nervous  yourself?  " 

"I  am  a  foolish  woman,"  said  Leilia, 
coldly.  "  If  you  can  save  Jim  this  voyage, 
it  will  perhaps  be  well.  He  would  be  vexed 
to  find  he  had  left  his  affairs  for  nothing. ' ' 

Bur  looked  up. 

"Is  papa  coming?"  he  asked,  in  an 
aghast  sort  of  voice.  "  Oh,  goodness  !  I 
thought  we  only  had  to  have  him  in  summer. 
To  have  him  in  winter,  too  !  That  will  be 
a  double  dose. ' ' 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  119 

Cabell  got  up  with  a  darkening  brow. 

"  I  shall  try  to  prevent  his  coming,"  he 
said,  coldly. 

In  spite  of  his  indignation  and  the  worry 
of  trying  to  reach  Fanning  with  a  second 
message,  he  was  strangely  sensible  of  an  un- 
dercurrent of  happiness.  He  did  not  know 
how  immediately  it  arose  from  his  perception 
that  Piccarda  lived  in  far  less  splendor  than 
he  had  figured ;  he  only  felt  it  an  unaccount- 
able joy  to  remember  the  pools  in  the  dark 
old  court,  the  broken  stairway,  and  tangled 
garden,  and  solitary  retainer  in  mended 
cottons.  Upon  these  remnants  of  past 
greatness  he  found  himself  rearing  a  fairy 
fabric  whose  pinnacles,  day  by  day,  rose  in 
added  clearness  and  beauty.  His  visionings 
were  helped  by  frequent  sights  of  Piccarda  ; 
she  came  often  to  sit  awhile  with  Mrs.  Ca- 
bell, and  these  little  visits,  made  usually  in 
Cabell's  absence,  seemed  to  him  to  leave 
a  sweet  and  haunting  presence  in  the  un- 
homelike  rooms  of  the  hotel.  It  was 
hardly  necessary  that  Mrs.  Cabell  should 


120  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

say,  "  Piccarda  has  been  here."  Cabell  felt 
that  the  very  air  told  him  if  she  had  lately 
breathed  it. 

One  day,  Mrs.  Cabell,  having  made  this 
announcement,  added,  "  Shall  you  mind 
going  to  the  Palazzo  Visconti  on  Friday  ? — 
Piccarda  wants  us.  She  said  her  uncle  would 
be  seeing  a  few  of  his  old  friends,  and  that 
he  hoped  to  have  us  join  them.  I  prom- 
ised. I  know  you  wouldn't  mind." 

"  Mind  !  "  cried  Cabell,  with  an  uplifted 
look  which  caused  his  mother  to  regard  him 
with  slowly  dawning  comprehension,  as  he 
threw  himself  in  a  chair  and  began  to  lose 
himself  again  in  a  world  of  aged  walls,  and 
glowing  orange-shoots,  and  sunken  steps  and 
crumbling  eaves. 

But  in  point  of  fact,  when  their  carriage 
drew  up  in  the  wide  court  on  the  night  of 
the  little  gathering,  Cabell  had  a  sensation 
of  surprise  at  the  brightness  of  the  place, 
whose  gray  dilapidation  had  so  strongly  im- 
pressed him.  All  the  flags  were  dry  now,  and 
trimly  swept ;  lights  mellowed  the  rows  of  in- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  121 

ner  windows ;  a  length  of  gay  carpeting  hid 
the  hollowed  steps  of  the  grand  stairway,  and 
swept  a  reach  of  crimson  through  the  land- 
ing between  rows  of  palms,  curiously  banked 
about,  like  a  child's  garden,  with  big  conch- 
shells.  These,  set  fantastically  on  end, 
seemed  to  be  pointing  alert  pink  ears  in  sus- 
picion of  footsteps.  Over  them,  shedding 
iridescent  lustre  from  the  rosy  enamel  of 
their  lining,  a  great  Venetian  lantern, 
wrought  of  twisted  iron  and  thick  dull  glass, 
spent  rays  of  emerald  and  violet  and  red. 

"  I  thought  the  evening  was  to  be  very 
informal)"  palpitated  Mrs.  Cabell,  rejoining 
her  son  at  the  door  of  the  room  in  which 
she  had  left  her  wrappings.  "  But  there  are 
flowers  everywhere,  and  I  hear  a  great  many 
voices.  I  fear  my  black  silk  gown  may  look 
rather  plain." 

A  sound  of  light  laughter  and  a  confused 
murmur  of  voices  broke  upon  them  as  the 
door  ahead  swung  open  in  the  hand  of  a  dig- 
nified attendant,  who  seemed  to  be  the  same 
man  Cabell  had  seen  swabbing  the  chestnut's 


122  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

legs  upon  his  earlier  visit  to  the  Palazzo. 
The  large  space  beyond  was  lighted  with 
bunches  of  wax-tapers,  whose  mild  radiance 
flickered  upon  the  dark  hangings  of  the  walls, 
the  cloudy  heights  of  the  pictured  ceil- 
ings, and  a  mingling  of  people  who  seemed 
for  the  greater  part  well  past  middle  life.  A 
few  girls  seated  upon  the  central  divan, 
topped  at  present  with  a  tropic  greenness  of 
palms,  were  surrounded  by  several  young 
officers — slight,  dark  men,  such  as  Cabell 
saw  daily  riding  in  the  bridleways  of  the 
Villa  or  drilling  squads  of  countrymen  in 
the  open  places  of  the  city.  Signor'Visconti 
stood  near  the  door,  complacent  and  impres- 
sive, with  an  order  upon  his  breast  repre- 
senting a  kneeling  angel  who  bore  aloft  a 
lily.  He  bent  deferentially  over  an  aged 
lady,  whose  white  hair  and  parchment  throat 
were  strung  with  jewels  quaintly  set  in  some 
pale,  silvery  metal.  Several  lean,  brown 
gentlemen,  with  stars  and  ribbons  on  their 
lapels,  and  with  tightly  waxed  gray  or  white 
mustaches,  were  moving  about ;  but  Cabell,  as 


ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI  123 

he  entered  was  aware  only  of  a  starry  range 
of  candles,  and  an  uncertain  background  of 
dull  tapestries,  and  faded  canvases,  and  gilt 
scrolls,  and  scattered  flowers,  upon  which  no 
single  individuality  was  at  all  definite  until 
Piccarda  stepped  forward  from  a  little  group. 
She  was  dressed  in  some  soft  fabric  of 
deep  red,  and  whether  or  not  it  was  by  con- 
trast with  the  richness  of  the  crimson,  her 
face  looked  pale  in  its  framing  of  dark  hair ; 
yet  as  she  spoke  to  him,  Cabell's  heart  rose, 
for  there  was  a  little  tremor  in  her  voice,  and 
her  eyes  did  not  meet  his  with  their  usual 
frankness.  Though  he  would  have  chosen  to 
stand  indefinitely  before  her,  he  found  him- 
self presently  talking  with  Signer  Visconti, 
being  presented  to  an  amiable  young  woman 
in  white  muslin,  to  a  pretty,  well-stayed  girl 
of  the  ordinary  peach-faced  type,  to  old 
ladies  in  snuffy  brocades,  with  antique  gems 
on  their  bony  fingers,  to  officers  whose  gold 
trimmings  glittered  as  they  bowed,  and 
finally  to  a  small,  dry  kernel  of  a  man,  whom 
Signer  Visconti  addressed  as  Prince.  Cabell, 


124  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

while  he  replied  to  this  gentleman's  ques- 
tions concerning  the  American  gold-fields, 
watched  Piccarda's  crimson  -  robed  figure 
moving  from  group  to  group.  He  had  just 
observed,  with  a  kind  of  rapt  contentment, 
that  she  was  leaning  above  his  mother  with 
some  word  which  had  brought  a  certain 
gravity  to  both  faces,  when  the  door  swung 
back,  admitting  the  dark,  authoritative  young 
man  with  whom  Piccarda  had  spoken  at 
Pompeii,  at  the  base  of  the  excavations. 

This  personage  wore  to-night  a  white 
flower  in  his  coat,  and  his  small,  black,  con- 
temptuous mustache  was  turned  up  in  the 
fashion  which  Cabell  had  noted  before  as 
admirably  comporting  with  the  young  man's 
general  air.  A  little  uncomfortably,  he  saw 
the  new-comer  approach  Piccarda  and  lift 
her  hand  to  his  lips ;  he  saw,  too,  that  her 
eyes  fell,  and  the  sight  of  the  white,  averted 
cheek  and  drooping  profile  made  his  senses 
whirl.  Through  the  maddening  confusion 
of  his  mind  he  presently  remarked  that  the 
prince  was  looking  at  him  rather  question- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  125 

ingly,  as  if  he  had  been  asking  about  some- 
thing, and  was  rather  surprised  at  his  com- 
panion's protracted  silence. 

"  I  was  speaking,"  said  the  prince,  ami- 
ably, "  of  Orsini's  good  fortune.  You 
know  him?  "  And  at  Cabell's  negation  he 
explained,  "It  is  he  who  had  just  entered. 
Conte  Orsini,  of  Rome.  His  wife,  I  re- 
member was  a  countrywoman  of  yours — 
oh,  beautiful !  very  beautiful ! — but  like  the 

marbles  of  the  Greeks,  a  little,  a  trifle " 

he  paused,  seeking  an  epithet,  which  he 
finally  decided  to  express  by  means  of  a 
gesture  conveying  the  idea  of  weight. 

"Altogether  without  the  grace,  the  life, 
the  charm  of  the  Signorina.  Eh,  Dio  !  She 
is  enchanting,  but  yes  !  " 

Cabell  had  started.  A  flashing  memory 
of  Anna  Bedell  struck  upon  him.  For  an 
instant  her  mild,  beneficent  beauty,  all  dust 
now  and  forever  perished,  reshaped  itself 
before  him.  This,  then,  was  the  count ; 
he  who  had  tortured  that  soft,  unsagacious 
heart,  laughed  at  its  anguish  and  broken  it, 


126  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

•  and  who  now,  in  the  flower  of  his  manhood, 
untouched  with  years  or  memories,  stood 
looking  ardently  down  on  Piccarda's  face. 

"  Orsini  has  been  for  a  year  a  most  de- 
termined suitor  to  the  Signorina,"  smiled 
the  prince,  fingering  his  fob  and  observ- 
ing the  girls  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
divan.  "  She  has  required  time  to  con- 
sider, I  am  told.  It  seems  a  little  hard  to 
understand  why.  Of  course,  we  all  know 
that  the  Visconti,  though  of  illustrious 
lineage,  are  not  less  poor  than  the  rest 
of  us,  which,"  laughed  the  prince,  "  is 
saying  little  !  The  Orsini  are  decidedly 
younger,  but  the  Conte  has  estates,  besides 
much  money  from  his  late  wife.  He  is  a 
parti,  oh,  very  decidedly  ! — and  he  has  not 
been  without  his  successes  in  life  by  any 
means  !  "  He  gurgled  out  a  small  appre- 
ciative laugh,  still  regarding  the  girlish 
throng  under  the  palm,  and  failing  to  see 
that  Cabell's  thin  dark  face  had  been  chang- 
ing as  he  listened. 

"You  spoke    just   now   of    the   count's 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  127 

good  fortune,"  Cabell  began,  in  a  restrained 
kind  of  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  the  prince,  preparing  to 
cross  the  room,  "  yes,  oh,  yes.  You  know — 
do  you  not  ? — that  Visconti  to-night  virtu- 
ally announces  the  betrothal  of  his  niece  to 
Orsini  ? — no  ?  I  supposed  it  was  generally 
understood. ' ' 


VIII 

As  they  rode  homeward  through  the  dark 
streets,  Mrs.  Cabell,  in  spite  of  her  desire  to 
talk  over  the  matters  of  the  evening,  did  not 
venture  to  infringe  upon  her  son's  resolute 
silence.  She  felt  even  a  little  awe  when  a 
passing  lamp  revealed  the  cold  abstraction 
of  his  face;  and  turning  hastily  away  she 
set  her  gaze  upon  the  Villa,  through  the 
shadowy  length  of  which  a  white  colonnade 
sped  dim  and  ghostly. 

The  next  morning,  as  they  sat  together 
after  breakfast,  Mrs.  Cabell  said,  rather  unex- 
pectedly, "I'm  sure  that  Piccarda  doesn't 
know  about  the  count. ' ' 

"Know  about  him?"  repeated  Cabell, 
in  a  tone  of  question.  He  looked  worn, 
and  he  did  not  raise  his  eyes  in  speaking, 


ONE   OF  THE  VISCONTI  129 

but  leaned  over  the  fire  operating  a  pair  of 
useless  little  bellows. 

"She  doesn't  know  the  kind  of  man  he 
is.  Oh,  I  thought  I  should  faint  last  night 
when  the  old  lady  who  sat  next  me — the 
Marchesa  something  or  other  —  told  me 
about  the  engagement !  I  have  dwelt  upon 
it  ever  since,  with  all  the  force  of  my  natu- 
rally strong  character,  and  I  have  concluded 
that  I  must  talk  to  Piccarda.  I — I  have 
grown  very  fond  of  Piccarda.  I  cannot  sit 
by  with  folded  hands  and  see  her  marry  a 
wicked,  cruel " 

"Mother  !  "  broke  in  Cabell,  tossing  the 
bellows  aside.  "  Don't  think  of  interfering 
in  this,  I  beg !  We  are  not  her  natural 
guardians.  Signor  Visconti  certainly  knows 
quite  as  much  as  we  concerning  Count 
Orsini.  This  betrothal  is  a  carefully  con- 
sidered family  affair,  and  as  for — for  Sig- 
norina  Visconti,  I  am  told  that  she  has  not 
accepted  the  count  without  due  delibera- 
tion. It  is  a  marriage  that  will  insure  her 
what  most  people  most  care  for  in  life. ' ' 
9 


130  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

"It  will  insure  her  what  she  is  too  sim- 
ple -  hearted  and  true  to  care  for  at  all !  " 
quavered  Mrs.  Cabell. 

"  Well,"  said  Cabell,  turning  slowly  from 
the  fire,  which  had  now  gone  out  in  a  whirl 
of  smoke,  "are  you  sure,  since  she  seems 
to  you  without  these  ambitions,  that  she  is 
not  marrying  him  simply  because  she  loves 
him?" 

"  Loves  him  ! — a  man  who  has  such  pro- 
pensities? Who  has  led  such  a  life?  " 

Cabell  laughed  a  not  altogether  cheerful 
laugh.  "When  men  are  loved  for  their 
virtues,  social  conditions  will  have  largely 
changed,"  he  remarked.  "Besides,  mother, 
we  ought  to  give  this  particular  man  his 
due.  Perhaps  he  isn't  such  a  fiend  as  you 
fancy. ' ' 

"Dick! — when  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Bedell 
cry  by  fhe  hour  !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  yes.  But  Anna  was  an  only  daugh- 
ter, and  her  death  greatly  unsettled  her 
mother.  I  won't  maintain  that  the  count  was 
an  ideal  husband,  according  to  our  simple  and 


ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI  131 

primitive  standards ;  but  according  to  the 
standards  of  a  higher  civilization  than  ours, 
perhaps  he  was  a  model  of  such  virtues  as 
are  expedient  and  fashionable.  At  any  rate, 
whatever  the  count  was  and  is,  you  may  be 
sure  that  Piccarda — that  Signorina  Viscon- 
ti's  uncle  knows  about  it,  and  that  he  be- 
lieves this  marriage  to  be  for  her  happi- 
ness. And  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Or- 
sini  loves  Piccarda  disinterestedly  enough." 
He  interrupted  himself  and  rose.  "  Don't 
worry  over  it."  And  as  he  kissed  her 
troubled  forehead,  he  added  :  "I  am  going 
out  now  to  walk.  Suppose  you  pay  a  little 
visit  to  Leilia  and  see  why  she  was  not  at 
the  Palazzo  last  night?  " 

The  day  was  very  bright,  insomuch  that 
the  Swiss  concierge  standing  in  the  doorway, 
with  the  sun  glittering  upon  the  crossed  keys 
of  his  collar,  remarked  its  beauty. 

"This  afternoon  will  see  much  of  car- 
riages along  the  Corso,"  said  he  to  Cabell. 
"  All  the  great  people  will  be  out,  and  a 
fine  show  of  splendid  horses,  and  footmen, 


132  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

and  rich  trimmings.  And,  as  always,  some 
guests  of  our  house,  they  will  say  to  me, 
'  My  God  !  what  a  wealthy  city  this  will 
be  ! — what  liveries,  what  coronets  upon  the 
panels,  what  luxury  ! '  ;  The  concierge 
paused  to  pull  down  a  corner  of  one  eye. 
"Bah! — it  is  poor,  poor,  poor — this  place. 
There  is  no  money.  There  is  nothing. 
Once  it  was  all  good  country  and  much 
things  grew,  and  there  was  not  such  taxes 
and  so  many  soldiers  to  keep  up ;  but  now, 
long  since,  the  nobles  they  must  starve  and 
pinch  if  they  keep  their  carriage.  And  they 
eat  of  cheese-parings  before  they  will  walk. 
Bah !  in  my  country  we  can  work.  But 
noble  people  cannot  work ;  they  can  only 
starve." 

Cabell  wandered  through  the  park  oppo- 
site, and  watched  without  interest  the  drill- 
ing of  a  squad  of  heavy  young  peasants, 
with  simple,  honest  faces  and  exceedingly 
thick  ankles,  which  looked  the  thicker  for 
the  yellow  leggings  casing  them.  The  noise 
and  gaiety  of  the  streets  oppressed  him,  and 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  133 

he  finally  got  into  one  of  the  little  cars 
which  mount  the  rise  behind  the  city,  and 
take  their  way  through  a  cold  upper  realm 
of  decent  cleanliness  and  prosperous  re- 
spectability. Here  was  stillness  enough,  and 
rows  of  blank-faced  villas,  and  numbers  of 
large  hotels  that  stared  pompously  down  at 
the  city  below,  with  its  press  of  irregular 
roofs  and  sea- washed  rim.  A  young  woman 
who  entered  the  car  at  one  of  the  upper  sta- 
tions, looked  at  Cabell,  smiling.  It  was 
Miss  McClaren  with  a  sketch-book  in  her 
hands ;  and  taking  a  seat  near  Cabell,  she 
said  :  "  How  are  you  enjoying  Naples  ?  " 

Cabell  roused  himself  to  a  reply,  and  Miss 
McClaren  said  that,  for  her  own  part,  she 
feared  that  she  should  never  get  away. 

"  I  find  a  perfect  mine  of  information  in 
the  Pompeian  frescoes,"  she  pursued.  "  The 
whole  sentiment  toward  woman  in  that  day 
is  faithfully  rendered  in  these  decorations. 
I  have  been  greatly  surprised  to  find  that  in 
those  far-off  times  she  was  rather  highly 
respected.  Do  you  want  to  look  over  my 


134  ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI 

sketches?  I  think  it  not  improbable  that  I 
may  next  winter  deliver  a  course  of  lectures 
under  the  administration  of  the  national 
council.  If  I  choose  ancient  Italy  for  my 
subject,  these  little  drawings,  you  see,  will 
be  of  great  use. ' '  At  this  point  she  began 
to  laugh,  as  if  something  of  an  amusing 
nature  had  suddenly  recurred  to  her. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  broke  out,  "  my 
efforts  to  project  some  idea  of  the  council 
upon  the  mediaeval  darkness  of  Signorina 
Visconti's  mind?  She  crossed  herself,  you 
know,  and  said,  '  Mother  of  God  !  '  when 
I  mentioned  the  possibility  of  a  revised  bi- 
ble. What  a  proper  little  soul  she  was,  with 
her  conservative  notions  and  small,  trustful 
piety  !  As  unprogressive  as — as ' ' 

"  As  a  rose  !  "  smiled  Cabell 

"  Well,  yes.  For  she  was  a  charming 
creature  in  spite  of  her  density.  By  the  by, 
there  is  a  bronze  bust  in  the  Museum,  quite 
near  the  Narcissus,  that  looks  amazingly 
like  Signorina  Visconti.  Perhaps  you've 
seen  it  ?  No  ?  You'll  find  it  set  down  in 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  135 

the  guide-book  as  a  bust  of  a  lady,  proba- 
bly a  member  of  the  family  of  the  Emperor 
Claudius." 

As  the  car  stopped  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Museum,  and  Miss  McClaren  rose, 
Cabell  said,  "Take  me  with  you !  I  haven't 
a  thing  in  the  world  to  do." 

"  Don't  expect  me  to  waste  my  valuable 
time  in  amusing  you  !  "  laughed  Miss  Mc- 
Claren. 

"  Why  ?  To  keep  a  man  contented,  isn't 
that  quite  as  noble  a  work  as  to  try  to  con- 
vince women  that  they  ought  to  be  discon- 
tented?" 

"  A  glorious  discontent  is  the  way  to 
heaven,"  she  quoted,  still  smiling.  "  Prog- 
ress and  satisfaction  are  altogether  incom- 
patible. But  see  here  !  I  refuse  to  be  led 
into  an  argument.  I  know  beforehand  what 
your  points  would  be.  Instead  of  carrying 
your  batteries,  I  shall  show  you  the  bronze 
bust."  And  she  gave  him  a  luminous 
glance. 

They  went  through  the  great,  damp  court 


136  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

and  came  presently  to  the  corner  where,  upon 
its  stone  column,  rests  the  presentment  of  the 
lady  who  was  one  of  the  house  of  Claudius. 
Through  a  doorway  one  might  see  the  slight, 
rapt  figure  of  the  Narcissus,  poised  in  an  at- 
titude of  eternal  listening,  tranced  of  eye 
and  lip,  with  grape-vines  in  his  ringed  hair 
and  a  goat-skin  on  his  supple  shoulder.  But 
Cabell  did  not  see  the  Narcissus,  for  the 
lady  of  the  house  of  Claudius  had  captured 
him  with  her  faint  smile. 

"Isn't  it  like  her?"  asked  Miss  Mc- 
Claren. 

"Yes,"  replied  Cabell,  quite  unconscious 
of  the  depth  of  his  tone  and  the  fixity  of 
his  gaze.  "  It's  very  like." 

"  I  shall  leave  you  to  study  it,"  she  said. 
"  My  love  to  Mrs.  Cabell,  and  good-by." 

He  returned  to  his  observance  of  the  dark, 
delicate  profile.  The  lightness  of  the  sil- 
vered eyes,  the  compression  of  the  little 
chin,  the  very  line  of  lip  and  eyelid  re- 
minded him  so  strangely  of  Piccarda,  that 
he  felt  glad  to  be  rid  of  Miss  McClaren's 


ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI  137 

penetrating  glance.  He  could  see  Piccarda 
again  as  he  had  seen  her  on  the  stone  land- 
ing at  Algiers,  with  the  little  knit  cap  on 
her  ruffled  hair;  or  on  shipboard,  bending 
pitifully  above  her  poor  countrywoman ;  or 
beautiful  and  stately  beside  her  uncle  in  the 
Christmas  multitude  of  the  Via  di  Roma; 
or  watching  a  spectral  clan  of  lictors  advanc- 
ing in  the  streets  of  the  old  Oscan  town. 
Most  vividly  of  all  he  saw  her,  "  gowned  in 
goodly  crimson,"  standing  with  white  and 
downcast  face  before  her  betrothed  in  the 
taper-starred  dimness  of  the  long  drawing- 
rooms  of  her  uncle's  house.  There  was  bit- 
terness in  the  last  picture;  and  he  turned 
from  the  portrait  bust  with  a  contraction  of 
the  heart,  feeling  that  not  even  the  earlier 
of  his  memories  of  Piccarda  were  any  longer 
sweet  to  dwell  upon.  Whether  or  not  she 
loved  the  young  Roman,  his  dark,  disdain- 
ful presence  shadowed  now,  and  must  al- 
ways shadow,  Cabell's  thoughts  of  her. 

He  went   back  through  the  great  halls, 
passing  with  empty  vision  the  old  frescoes, 


138  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

and  inscriptions,  and  archaic  marbles. 
Scarcely  a  footstep  beside  his  own  woke  the 
vaulted  silence.  Sometimes  a  guard,  muf- 
fled in  his  coat-collar,  looked  up  from  a 
brazier  or  scaldino ;  sometimes  an  artist 
glanced  from  his  copy  at  the  solitary  fores- 
tier,  rambling  dull-eyed  through  the  vacant 
ways.  As  Cabell  approached  the  Hall  of  the 
Flora  a  sound  of  voices  took  his  ear  ;  and 
crossing  aaother  threshold  he  saw,  standing 
over  the  mosaic  of  the  battle  of  Alexander, 
a  man  and  woman  engaged  in  the  lively  ar- 
gument whose  echoes  had  already  reached 
him. 

' '  I  regret  that  I  cannot  pretend  to  agree 
with  you,  "  the  woman,  who  seemed  to  be 
Miss  McClaren,  was  saying.  There  was  a 
camel' s-hair  brush  behind  one  ear,  and  a 
streak  of  India  ink  along  one  cheek  ;  but  she 
held  her  head  very  haughtily  indeed,  as  she 
repeated,  "  I  have  only  been  away  from  my 
native  land  a  short  time,  and  I  have  still  a 
germ  of  patriotism  in  my  breast." 

"I'm  sure,"  rose  Mr.    Dodd's  nerveless 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  139 

tones,  "  that  I  cannot  recall  what  I  have 
said  to  elicit  —  er — so  much  warmth.  I 
intended  merely  to  suggest,  apropos  of  this 
animated  battle-scene,  that  another  war  in 
America  would  do  much  to  reduce  her  com- 
merce, and  thereby  free  her  from  the  rank 
spirit  of  trade  which  degrades  her  at  present. 
I  said  only  that  if  some  one  would  arise 
among  us,  and  declare  himself  emperor,  and 
overthrow  the  state,  our  poor,  lumbering, 
ignorant  land  might — er " 

— "  Get  beaten  into  shape." 

"  Er — I  don't  think  I  used  just  that  ex- 
pression." 

"  We  need  not  discuss  it — ah,  Mr.  Cabell ! 
You  haven't  stolen  anything  from  the  room 
of  the  bronzes?  It  really  wouldn't  be  safe, 
you  know.  To  leave  Italy  with  a  veritable 
antique  would  be  almost  as  difficult  as  to 
enter  Italy  with  a  package  of  cigarettes. " 

"I  have  the  honor,"  said  Mr.  Dodd, 
stiffly  raising  his  hat,  "  to  wish  you  good- 
day." 

"Are   you  going?  au  revoir,  then,  for 


140  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

we  are  sure  to  meet  again.  It's  strange, 
Mr.  Cabell,  how  Mr.  Dodd  and  I  are  always 
running  across  each  other  !  " 

"It seems,"  reflected  Mr.  Dodd,  gloomily, 
"like  fate." 

"Fate  is  usually  cruel,"  responded  his 
antagonist,  with  a  dawning  smile.  Cabell 
stopped  a  moment  to  inspect  her  wash-draw- 
ing of  the  Flora's  gigantic  but  charming 
head,  and  presently  rejoined  Mr.  Dodd  in 
the  outer  court. 

"In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  I 
quite  forgot  to  express  my  sympathy  with 
you,"  said  Mr.  Dodd,  as  they  walked  on. 
"  I  was  rather  surprised  to  see  you  here  ; 
but  I  suppose  you  felt  it  necessary  to  get 
away  from  the  confusion  that  always  ac- 
companies these  sad  events.  Really  a  very 
distressing  thing  !  A  bright  child,  quite  a 
bright  child  !  I  understand  that  his  death 
was  alarmingly  sudden." 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak?  "  asked  Ca- 
bell, stopping  short.  Mr.  Dodd  stopped 
also,  looking  bewildered. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  141 

"  Why,  of  Mrs.  Fanning's  little  boy,"  he 
specified.  "  As  I  left  the  hotel  just  now  the 
concierge  told  me  of  it.  I  believe  he  said 
it  happened  only  in  the  last  hour.  Can  it 
be  that  you  had  not  heard  ? ' ' 

Cabell  went  straight  to  Leilia's  dwelling. 
His  mother  met  him  at  the  door  and  drew 
him  into  the  small  ante-room  out  of  the 
way  of  the  weeping,  excited  maids. 

"  I  was  here  when  it  happened,"  ex- 
plained Mrs.  Cabell,  sobbing.  "  Leilia  and 
I  were  sitting  together,  and  she  was  telling 
me  that  Bur  had  passed  another  trying 
night,  but  was  better.  And  I  had  asked 
her  if  she  knew  of  Piccarda's  betrothal  to 
the  man  who  had  been  Anna  Bedell's  hus- 
band ;  and  she  said  she  knew  of  it.  I  said, 
'  Does  Piccarda  know  what  kind  of  person 
he  is  ? '  Said  she,  '  Piccarda  must  know  that 
he  is  a  man  of  the  world.'  Then  I  cried 
out,  '  Leilia,  that  is  putting  it  mildly.  His 
morals  are  bad  ! '  '  But  his  manners  are 
good  !  '  said  she.  And  she  went  on  to  say 
that  Piccarda  was  fond  of  the  count's  little 


142  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

boy,  and  while  she  might  not  be  foolishly 
infatuated  with  the  count  himself,  she  doubt- 
lessly found  him  agreeable  enough.  Leilia 
added  that  she  considered  it  a  very  good 
marriage  for  Piccarda,  and  that  she  had  done 
all  she  could  to  further  it.  I  was  looking  at 
her  in  horror.  I'm  an  old-fashioned  woman, 
Dick,  and  in  spite  of  my  really  acute  pene- 
tration, there  are  some  things  I  cannot  see 
through.  I  was  looking  at  her,  as  I  say,  in 
horror,  when  we  heard  a  cry,  and  Nanine  ran 
into  the  room,  throwing  her  hands  up,  gasp- 
ing, moaning.  It  seems  she  had  gone  to  put 
a  coverlet  on  Bur,  and  found  him  breathing 

strangely.     It  was  all  over  in  a  minute " 

"  Poor  little  chap  ! — and  Leilia? " 

"  She?  oh,  she  takes  it  dreadfully.  Pic- 
carda is  with  her  now — they  sent  for  her  at 
once.  Hark !  was  that  the  door-bell  ?  ' ' 

Nanine  was  passing  along  the  hallway, 
and  they  heard  in  an  instant  the  sound  of 
the  latch,  an  exclamation,  and  the  tones  of  a 
man's  voice.  Cabell  started  and  rose ;  for 
the  voice  in  the  hallway  was  Fanning' s. 


IX 


IT  had  rained  all  night,  and  the  city  was 
washed  to  dull  gray,  with  occasional  hints 
of  terra-cotta  in  its  rising  circles.  Vesu- 
vius was  mantled  in  a  crinkled  sheet  of 
snow  which,  melting  into  a  strip  of  white 
sky,  drew  the  summits  up  to  indefinite 
heights.  Out  in  the  bay  a  heavy  surge 
tossed  against  the  breakwater,  flinging  a 
smoky  white  far  back  upon  the  heaving  deep 
green.  The  Castello  dell'  Ovo  to-day  had 
all  the  deep  tones  of  newly  wrought  bronze. 
Over  its  riven  brown  walls  the  sea  tossed  in 
a  passion  of  foam,  seeming  to  contribute  a 
tremulous  movement  to  the  stern  old  pile. 

The  coldness  of  the  storm  -  washed  sky 
gave  everything  a  dreary  aspect ;  its  forlorn 
shadows  reached  even  to  the  room  where 


144  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

Leilia  lay  staring  at  the  rose-scattered  ceil- 
ing, as  she  had  lain,  staring,  ever  since  Bur 
died,  the  day  before.  She  did  not  speak 
or  look  up  at  the  sound  of  a  rap  on  the 
door.  A  voice  outside  said,  softly,  "  It's  I 
— Piccarda."  Then  Leilia  turned  her  head 
a  trifle,  murmuring,  "  Come  in." 

Piccarda  entered.  She  came  and  leaned 
over  the  bed,  touching  Leilia's  hair,  saying, 
"  Cara  mia  !  O  cara  mia  ! — it  is  hard  for 
you.  And  who  shall  try  just  yet  to  comfort 
you  ?  I  will  not  attempt  it,  Leilia.  I  have 
only  come  to  tell  you  that  there  is  some  one 
here  who  bears  the  burden  with  you.  He 
came  yesterday.  He  has  not  wished  to 
break  in  upon  your  grief,  but  now  I  have 
told  him  that  it  is  best  for  you  to  see  him — 
that  he  must  come ' ' 

Leilia  flung  up  a  sudden  hand.  Her  eyes 
held  an  aghast  interrogation.  But  Pic- 
carda, half  way  across  the  room,  did  not 
look  around  nor  stop ;  and  as  she  closed 
the  door  behind  her  Leilia  fell  back  trem- 
bling, with  the  wide  sleeve  of  her  gown  over 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  145 

her  eyes.  Shortly  after  there  was  a  step  on 
the  threshold.  Fanning,  with  one  hand 
pocketed,  stood  there,  glancing  about  the 
unfamiliar  prettiness  of  his  wife's  room,  and 
at  his  wife  herself,  lying  with  covered  eyes 
and  averted  face.  His  hair  was  rough,  his 
attire  careless  as  usual ;  even  his  expression 
preserved  the  composure  common  to  it ;  and 
as  Leilia  looked  up  at  length  half  fearfully, 
and  caught  this  air  of  unconcern,  which, 
instead  of  sorrow,  or  rebuke,  or  anger 
marked  his  bearing,  something  stung  her 
sharply.  For  a  moment  they  observed 
each  other.  Then,  almost  hoarsely,  she 
broke  out:  "You  can  look  like  that  ? — so 
indifferent?  I've  thought  of  many  things 
you  might  say  and  do  when  you — should 
learn  what  has  happened.  But  I  need  not 
have  concerned  myself,  it  appears.  You  are 
cold,  hard.  Oh,  my  little  one  !  my  boy  ! 
my  baby  !  —  he  lies  in  his  grave  clothes, 
and  you — you,  his  father  ! — you  can  stand 
here  without  a  tear — unmoved,  tranquil !  " 
In  the  gray  light  Fanning's  face  seemed 

10 


146  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

to  shake,  and  a  sudden  fire  flashed  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Tranquil?"  he  repeated.  "Yes,  I'm 
tranquil  enough  ! — why  shouldn't  I  be?  Has 
anything  happened  that  I'm  not  very  well 
used  to  ?  Has  anything  new  occurred  to  me  ? 
— not  Bur's  death,  surely.  Death's  an  old 
thing  to  me.  I've  met  its  face  often  enough, 
God  knows,  not  to  be  startled  by  it.  I've 
lived  in  company  with  it  for  months,  years. 
Haven't  I  seen  your  love  for  me  die,  and 
Bur's  love,  too  ?  Haven't  I  seen  all  my  hopes 
perish,  one  by  one?  Haven't  I  lived  in  the 
dust  of  vanished  joys,  trying  to  hide  from  the 
world  what  I  knew  so  bitterly  well  myself — 
that  I  had  a  wife  who  scorned  me,  a  son  who 
despised  me  ?  Work  as  I  might,  all  my 
efforts  only  put  it  in  the  power  of  these  two 
to  raise  themselves  higher  and  higher  above 
me — God  !  what  am  I  talking  about  ?  Tran- 
quil, am  I  ?  Well,  there  was  a  time  when 
I  was  anything  else  ! — when  I  cared,  cared  ! 
— when  your  cold  letters,  your  half-tolerant 
greetings,  your  relieved  farewells  went  into 


ONE   OF   THE   VISCONTI  147 

my  heart  like  iron ;  when  his  little  babyish 
contempt  and  scoffing  flayed  me,  tore  me. 
But  I've  got  over  it  all.  Men  who  suffer 
much  get  seared  finally.  It  must  be  so ;  for 
I  certainly  don't  feel  now  as  a  man  should 
feel  whose  son  lies  dead." 

His  glance  had  left  Leilia,  had  wandered 
off  to  the  distant,  darkening  sky,  the  shad- 
owy palm  tops  of  the  Villa,  the  ominous 
reach  of  sea.  The  stern  set  of  his  rugged 
features,  the  half-bitter,  half-indifferent  lift 
of  his  chin,  even  the  resolution  of  his  step 
as  he  paced  once  or  twice  across  the  room, 
impressed  Leilia  with  a  sort  of  awe. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  really  cared,"  she 
faltered.  "I  didn't  think — I  didn't  sus- 
pect  ' ' 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  not  unkindly, 
"don't  bother  over  the  matter.  I'm  sur- 
prised that  I  should  speak  as  hotly  as  I  did. 
What  does  it  all  matter  ?  Good-night,  Leilia. 
Perhaps  I'd  better  send  some  one  to  light 
your  candles."  He  shut  the  door,  and  in 
a  moment  she  heard  him  talking  over  some 


1 48  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

ordinary  topic  with   Cabell  in  an   adjoin- 
ing room. 

Cabell  himself,  in  these  days  and  those 
that  followed,  was  considerably  bewildered 
at  the  bearing  of  his  old  friend.  Once,  two 
or  three  weeks  after  Bur's  death,  Fanning, 
in  turning  over  the  child's  sketch-book,  said 
to  Cabell:  "  He  was  always  a  clever  little 
fellow  !  ' '  He  made  this  remark  in  a  casual 
sort  of  way,  holding  a  sheet  up  that  he  might 
better  scrutinize  the  hull  and  stacks  of  a  won- 
derful ship  in  red  and  green  chalk. 

"Look  at  that  crow's  nest  in  the  mast ! 
Isn't  it  well  put  in,  Dick  ?  " 

"Yes,"  agreed  Cabell,  turning  about 
with  a  sharpness  in  the  throat,  and  wondering 
that  Fanning  should  be  able  to  handle  the 
childish  drawings  in  so  unmoved  a  fashion. 

"You  are  singularly  resigned  to — to  all 
this,  Jim!  "  he  said,  in  spite  of  himself. 
Fanning  regarded  him  with  a  gaze  distant 
and  gentle. 

"I  lost  him  so  long  ago,  you  see,"  he 
said,  simply. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  149 

Cabell  came  daily  to  the  apartment  which, 
for  all  the  greater  number  of  people  that 
were  now  in  it,  had  grown  so  empty  and 
sad.  Fanning  was  generally  in  the  ante- 
room smoking  by  himself.  Piccarda  also 
spent  much  of  her  time  in  the  desolated 
place,  and  though  Cabell  saw  little  of  her, 
yet  the  sense  of  her  nearness  gave  his  visits 
to  Fanning  a  precious  quality.  Often  he 
could  hear  her  speaking,  and  once,  when 
the  sound  of  her  voice  had  held  him  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence,  he  came  to  himself  to 
find  Fanning's  eyes  fixed  perceptively  upon 
him. 

"I,  too,  have  been  in  Arcady,"  smiled 
Fanning.  Cabell  turned  off  his  feelings  in 
a  laughing  remark,  which,  reaching  Leilia's 
ear  in  the  room  beyond,  made  her  wince. 

She  sat  listlessly  by  the  window,  pale  and 
still.  "  How  heartless  men  are,"  she  said, 
wearily. 

"  Because  one  laughs  a  little,  that  is  not  a 
sign  of  heartlessness,"  protested  Piccarda, 
who  was  mending  a  scrap  of  lace  in  a  cir- 


150  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

cular  frame.  "Mr.  Cabell,  I  have  seen 
tears  in  his  eyes  not  so  long  ago.  But  a 
man  cannot  always  have  his  eyes  with  tears 
in  them." 

"  I  thought  it  was  Mr.  Fanning  who 
laughed." 

"  No.  His  voice  is  deeper,  but  not  so 
full.  But  even  if  it  had  been  he  ! — life 
must  go  on,  Leilia,  in  spite  of — of " 

"Must  it? — for  me  it  seems  to  have 
stopped,  in  every  vital  sense.  At  least, 
everything  but  the  pain  of  it.  And  the 
pain  of  it, — of  missing  my  darling, — grows 
daily  greater  instead  of  daily  less.  But  I 
must  not  go  on  like  this  !  I  must  not  spoil 
the  sunshine  for  you,  Piccarda,  who  are 
young  and  happy  !  " 

Piccarda  lifted  an  absent  gaze  above  her 
darning  frame. 

"Me?"  she  said;  and  recovering  her- 
self, she  added,  a  little  confusedly,  "  of 
course ;  oh,  of  course,  I  am  very  happy  !  ' ' 

"  Yes,  Piccarda.  You  have  everything  in 
the  world  that  counts  for  blessedness.  When 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  151 

you  marry  and  go  away  to  live  in  Rome, 
dear,  I  shall  feel  unutterably  alone.  I  hope 
you  will  remember  your  poor  friend,  and 
come  sometimes  to  see  her,  wherever  she 
may  be.  I  do  not  know  where  I  shall 
live." 

Piccarda  held  her  needle  with  an  out- 
stretched thread.  "Live!  You — you  are 
not  thinking,  then,  of  going  home  with 
Mr.  Fanning  ?  ' ' 

Leilia's  sunken  eyes  surveyed  the  dis- 
tance. "  No,  Piccarda.  It  would  not  be 
very  agreeable  for  me  to  go  where  I  am 

not "  She  faltered  and  flushed.  "Mr. 

Fanning  said  yesterday  that  the  only  advis- 
able thing  for  me  to  do,  was  to  stay  abroad. 
He  was  good  enough  to  add  that  wherever  I 
care  to  go  he  will  take  me.  I  ventured  to 
suggest  that  to  return  to  America  might  be 
best  for  me.  But  he  did  not  agree  with 
me.  He — he  said  such  an  idea  was — 
absurd."  She  looked  vacantly  down  upon 
her  folded  hands,  and  Piccarda,  watching 
her,  drew  a  sharp  breath. 


152  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

One  morning  something  later,  as  Pic- 
carda  sat  beside  the  hearth  in  Leilia's 
drawing-room  arranging  a  lapful  of  pink 
roses  in  a  great  delft  vase,  Fanning's  large 
figure  appeared  in  the  doorway.  He  held 
the  shimmering  hangings  awkwardly  back, 
and  set  his  eyes  in  a  kind  of  troubled  ap- 
peal upon  the  bright  face  bending  over  the 
flowery  heap.  He  had  in  his  hand  an 
official-looking  letter,  and  while  he  excused 
himself  for  interrupting  Piccarda  he  turned 
the  sheet,  and  fumbled  it,  and  finally  broke 
out,  in  a  disturbed  way:  "You  see  this, 
Signorina?  It's  a  business  letter — they've 
just  sent  it  up  from  Turner's  by  the  hand- 
some little  fellow  in  green  livery ;  and  it 
makes  my  return  urgent,  very  urgent." 

"  We  shall  be  most  sorry  to  lose  you," 
said  Piccarda,  biting  off  a  little  green  twig. 
' '  Oh,  most  sorry  !  ' ' 

"  No  doubt,"  commented  Fanning,  rather 
grimly.  "  But  I  wasn't  so  much  thinking 
of  the^devastation  my  departure  will  cause 
as  of  the  fact  that  I  ought  to  go  at  once. 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  153 

Now  it's  like  this:  I  don't  want  to  hurry 
Mrs.  Fanning  in  any  way  ;  but  I  don't  think 
she  ought  to  remain  in  Naples.  I — in  fact 
I  don't  know  just  where  she  means  to  go  ; 
but  wherever  it  is  I'd  like  to  see  her  settled 
before  I  leave.  And  I  thought  if  you,  Sig- 
norina,  who  are  so  kind  to  us,  would  add  to 
your  kindness  by — by  asking  her,  you  know, 
about  this — why " 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  nodded  Piccarda.  "  But  " 
—  after  an  instant  of  thought  and  with  a 
little  air  of  pleading — "  I  am  greatly  busy, 
as  you  see — while  you — you  have  only  to 
smoke,  is  it  not  true?  Now,  while  I  fix 
these  beasts  of  roses — all  claws  as  they  are — 
you  might  go  to  Leilia's  room,  and  ask  for 
yourself.  My  English  is  not  to  be  trusted. 
I  might  mix  things  up." 

Fanning  laughed.  "  But  you  see,  Signor- 
ina " 

' '  You  have  only  to  tap  at  the  door, ' ' 
signified  Piccarda,  lost  in  a  green-and-pink 
tangle. 

So    Fanning    rather    uncertainly    turned 


154  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

away,  and  went  down  the  hall,  and  rapped. 
Leilia,  as  he  entered  the  room,  glanced  up 
with  an  effect  of  surprise.  She  looked  thin 
and  wan  in  the  unfavoring  glare  of  the 
Italian  sun,  which,  burnishing  the  brightness 
of  her  light  hair,  gave  her  face  a  yellowish, 
wasted  appearance.  When  Fanning,  with- 
out seating  himself,  related  the  matter  he 
had  in  hand,  his  wife,  keeping  her  eyes 
upon  the  floor,  said,  simply,  "  Do  not  think 
of  me." 

' '  I  must  see  you  settled  comfortably  be- 
fore I  go." 

"  I  shall  not  be  very  comfortable  wher- 
ever I  am." 

"  No.  I  suppose  not.  That  was  not  the 
word  to  use.  But  I  needn't  remind  you 
that  graceful  tact  was  never  just  in  my  line. 
You  know  what  I  meant  to  say,  Leilia. 
That  I  want  to  leave  you  where  I  can  feel 
you  are  measurably  content.  There  isn't 
much  I  can  do  to — to  mitigate  your  trial, 
but  whatever  I  can  do,  I  want  to  do." 

He  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  took 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  155 

out  his  letter,  and  began  to  ponder  over  it 
with  knitted  brows.  Leilia  had  risen ;  she 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  into  the 
greenness  of  the  park ;  then  she  crossed  the 
room,  and  paused  near  Fanning,  and  said, 
"Jim?" 

Fanning  lifted  a  surprised  glance,  but 
Leilia  did  not  heed  it.  She  drew  a  little 
nearer.  "Jim,  there  is  something  I  want 
to  say.  I  have  never  tried  to  make  you 
happy ' ' 


Oh,  well !  I 


— "I  did  not  marry  you  without  loving 
you  some,  but  it  was  not  enough " 

— "Leilia,  is  it  worth  while  to  bring  up 
these  things?  " 

•*  Jim,  listen.  I've  lived  as  I  pleased, 
and  where  I  pleased.  Perhaps  I  thought  at 
first  that  it  was  really  for  Bur's  sake ;  but 
I've  known  for  a  long  time  that  it  was  prin- 
cipally for  my  own.  I  liked  it  over  here 
where  life  is  smoother  than  it  is  with  us.  I 
loved  to  study  and  dream  among  the  beau- 
tiful things  of  the  world.  I  wanted  to  grow 


156  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

upward  to  my  fullest  reach.  And  no  doubt, 
from  a  point  of  pure  intelligence,  I  have  not 
fallen  short.  But  I  am  a  very  miserable 
woman,  Jim,  for  I  have  begun  to  see  what 
a  poor  thing  a  mean  and  sordid  heart  is, 
however  it  may  be  cloaked  in  pretty  refine- 
ments. ' ' 

"You're  nervous,  Leilia! — or  something. 
Don't  be  so  hard  on  yourself." 

"  Hard  ? — me,  who  have  left  you  so  long 
with  neither  wife,  child,  nor  home? — Oh, 
it's  all  true,  Jim  !  You  know  it  well  enough. 
Remember  what  you  said  to  me  the — the  day 
after  you  came  !  For  everything  you've 
missed,  suffered,  or — or  sinned  even,  I  am 
to  blame.  God's  put  it  all  to  my  account. 
And  most  of  all  I  think  He  means  to  charge 
me  with  the  change  which  my  selfishness 
has  worked  in  you,  Jim  ! — you,  who  used  to 
be  so  warm,  so  easily  touched,  and  who  are 
now  so  hard  and  indifferent." 

"  Am  I  so  hard  and  indifferent?  " 

"To  me,  at  least,  you  are  both.  Oh,  I 
know  very  well  that  you  don't  care  the 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTJ  157 

smallest  trifle  for  me  any  more  !  I  am  not 
so  utterly  foolish  as  to  complain  of  it,  though 
I  am  weak  enough  to  feel  that  ix  would  be  a 
comfort  to  me  now  if  you  loved  me  even  a 
little.  And  the  least  atom  of  regard,  if  I 
could  depend  on  it  in  you,  would  make  it 
easier  for  me  to  ask  what  I  am  going  to 
ask." 

"  Leilia  !  Good  heavens  !  you  are  mak- 
ing this  thing  infernally  hard  for  both  of  us. 
Don't  you  know  me  well  enough  to  be  cer- 
tain that  anything  you  ask " 

"Will  be  granted?  Suppose  I  should 
beg  you  not  to  leave  me  here  alone  ?  Sup- 
pose I  should  implore  you  to  take  me  home 
with  you  ?  " 

"  Home?  but " 

"  Jim,  I  am  still  your  wife,  though  I've 
been  so  unworthy  a  one.  Listen  !  I'm 
frank  with  you  !  I  don't  ask  you  to  take 
me  back  upon  any  assertion  that  any  new, 
astonishing  love  for  you  has  overwhelmed 
me.  But  because  we  belong  to  each  other. 
Because  I  feel  that  in  all  this  empty  earth 


158  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

there  is  no  one  so  near  to  me  as  you,  no  one 
I  want  or  need  so  much.  And  I  will  be 
good  !  Oh,  J  will  be  good  !  I  will  make 
you  forget  every  pain  I  have  caused  you — if 
only  you  will  listen  to  me  !  ' ' 

Fanning  sat  with  his  head  in  his  hands. 
He  had  lost  his  ruddy  color,  and  his  lips 
even  were  pale. 

"Leilia,"  he  muttered,  "you — you  don't 
know.  There  are  deep  places  between 

j  j 

"  No  matter,"  she  breathed  hastily.  "  I 
can  cross  them."  And  she  added,  in  a  sob, 
"  If  you  will  let  me." 

Fanning  got  up  suddenly,  and  took  her 
trembling  hands. 

"  Come  then  !  "  he  said,  in  a  deep  voice. 
"  We  are  at  least  honest  with  each  other  ! 
Who  knows  what  God  means  to  do  with  us? 
Perhaps  we  are  not  done  with  something 
like  happiness  after  all !  "  And  he  bent 
to  soothe  her,  for  she  was  weeping  as  she 
clung  to  him. 

Piccarda,  sitting  among  her  roses,  caught 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  159 

the  sound  of  that  soft  sobbing,  which  was 
now  without  bitterness,  and  mixed  with  the 
consolatory  murmur  of  Fanning's  voice. 
Hearing  it,  the  Italian  girl  dropped  the 
blossoms  she  had  been  idly  sorting,  and  grew 
very  white.  Her  wide  eyes  sought  a  gentle, 
downcast  face  upon  the  opposite  wall,  the 
face  of  a  virgin  of  Raphael's — the  Madon- 
na of  the  Chair,  nestling  her  baby  in  her 
bosom. 

"  Mother  of  Many  Sorrows  !  "  murmured 
Piccarda,  in  a  kind  of  broken  way,  "it  is 
well  with  them.  I  know  it  is  well,  and  I 
rejoice.  But  me  !  me  !  Heart  of  woman- 
hood, I  am  faint  and  failing.  Oh,  hear 
me!  " 


X 


"  MOTHER,"  said  Cabell,  abruptly,  "do 
you  want  to  go  to  Rome  next  week  ?  ' ' 

They  were  walking  along  the  Riviera 
di  Chiaja,  with  the  sparkle  of  the  sea 
and  the  greenness  of  the  gardens  fol- 
lowing the  way  upon  the  right.  "  For 
me — well,  I  believe  I  should  like  to  leave 
Naples!" 

Mrs.  Cabell  scrutinized  her  son. 

"Yes,"  she  agreed.  "I  should  like  to 
go  away.  It  hasn't  been  very  cheerful  late- 
ly. Since  Bur  died,  and  Leilia  has  been  so 
sad,  and  Piccarda  too  busy  to  spend  much 
time  with  me — I  don't  know,  Dick  !  I've 
felt  homesick. ' ' 

"  Let's  go  to  Rome,  then." 

"  We  might,  of  course." 

"  Or  Florence.     Anywhere." 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  161 

"  If  I  had  my  choice,  Dick,  I  would 
rather  go  home. ' ' 

Cabell  started.  Something  like  a  sense 
of  relief  came  upon  him.  "  I  would  liefer 
that  than  anything  else,"  he  said.  "  We 
could  sail  next  week.  I'll  look  up  the  mat- 
ter to-day."  And  he  hummed  an  air  as 
they  strolled  along.  Without  doubt  it 
would  be  a  satisfaction  to  leave  this  beau- 
tiful, vaunted  land.  A  shadow  hung  upon 
its  loveliness,  for  into  his  brief  experience 
of  it  death  had  entered,  and  sorrow. 

As  he  stood  waiting  his  turn  that  afternoon 
to  make  inquiries  about  the  next  sailing,  it 
struck  him  that  the  man  engaging  the 
clerk's  attention  bore  a  singular  resem- 
blance to  Mr.  Dodd,  who,  however,  had 
left  Naples  some  time  before. 

"It  must  be  dead  amidship,"  this  person 
was  insisting,  "  dead  amidship;  for  a  lady 
travelling  alone.  Ah  !  here  is  something 
still  unmarked  !  "  And  he  drew  a  pencil 
across  a  state-room  in  the  long  diagram 

of  the  Augusta  Victoria.     Then  he  turned, 
ii 


1 62  ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI 

and  Cabell  saw  that  it  was  Mr.  Dodd  him- 
self. 

"I  thought  you  had  left  us,"  said  the 
young  man,  smiling.  "  What's  this  you're 
about?  Pardon  me.  I  suppose  I  oughtn't 
to  ask  if  you're  returning  to  the  unlettered 
land  of  the  free  ?  ' ' 

Mr.  Dodd  looked  somewhat  confused. 
"  Er — no,"  he  confided,  "not  at  present. 
Not  until  a  little  later.  She  wanted  it  so, 
you  see,  and  of  course  I  had  to  acquiesce." 
As  Cabell's  face  showed  bewilderment,  he 
added — "  Miss  McClaren,  you  know.  She 
wishes  to  see  her  people  before  I  present 
myself  for  their  approval.  An  awful  bore  ! 
But  she  is  inexorable.  You  remember  how 
inexorable  she  is  capable  of  being?  " 

"Oh,  yes  !  But  I'm  not  so  sure  that  I'm 
getting  at  your  meaning.  Miss  McClaren 
is  going  home " 

"  Certainly.  To  Kansas  City.  To  see 
her  parents  regarding  our  marriage." 

"  Marriage  !  You  won't  be  offended  if 
I  say  I  am  a  little  surprised  ?  " 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  163 

"  I  am,  myself,"  owned  Mr.  Dodd.  "  I 
hardly  know  how  it  happened,  really.  But 
after  she  went  away  I  had  a  sense,  don't  you 
know,  of  missing  something.  We  were  al- 
ways meeting  and  disagreeing,  and  it  gave 
life  a  kind  of  zest,  a  sort  of  activity.  And 
without  it  I  found  myself  getting  very  slight, 
really  very  slight.  So  finally  it  seemed  as 
if  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  and 
try  the  climate  of  Rome ;  and  I  did  so,  and 
met  her  roaming  round  St.  Peter's  the  very 
first  day.  We  had  an  animated  discussion 
on  the  spot,  and  it  benefited  me  greatly. 
Two  weeks  later  I  told  her  that  I  thought  I 
should  like  to  marry  her  if  she  didn't  very 
much  mind — and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  And 
she  said  she  should  mind  it  very  much.  But 
when  she  saw  I  was  really  taking  it  to  heart, 
and  losing  my  appetite,  don't  you  know,  she 
reconsidered  her  cruelty." 

Cabell  expressed  a  proper  emotion,  and 
Mr.  Dodd  went  on,  dreamily,  "  I  suppose  I 
shall  live  hereafter  in  Kansas  City — and  run 
for  the  city  council,  if  they  have  one.  It 


1 64  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

will  be  something  to  do!"  And  he  de- 
parted, smiling  a  little  in  a  languid  but 
contented  way. 

After  completing  his  own  arrangements 
for  sailing,  Cabell  decided  to  stop  and  in- 
form the  Fannings  of  his  changed  plans. 
On  inquiring,  however,  he  found  them  both 
away  from  home. 

"  Signorina  Visconti  is  within,"  Nanine 
signified,  "  awaiting  monsieur  and  madame. 
If  Monsieur  Cabell  wishes  to  enter  they  will 
soon  return,  without  question." 

Cabell  hesitated.  Through  the  curtains 
of  the  doors  he  could  see  Piccarda  in  her 
plumed  hat  and  fur  cape  musing  over  a  book. 
At  his  step  she  gave  a  little  exclamation. 
The  fire  had  made  her  cheeks  very  pink,  so 
the  young  man  thought,  regarding  her  as  she 
lay  back  in  the  chair,  half  closing  her  eyes. 

"I  certainly  grow  nervous,"  she  ex- 
plained. 

"  I  am  distressed  to  have  spoken  so  sud- 
denly," Cabell  began,  discovering  that  he 
was  strangely  embarrassed  to  find  himself  so 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  165 

near  the  living  presence  whose  phantom  pre- 
sentment haunted  his  days  persistently.  He 
felt  as  if  he  must  go  on  talking,  if  only  to 
save  himself  from  the  thoughts,  tender,  bit- 
ter, overpowering,  which  surged  upon  him. 

"Yes — I  stopped  in — it  was  on  my  way 
home — to — to  tell  Fanning  of  our  depart- 
ure. We  just  decided  on  it  to-day.  Seven 
days  hence  we  shall  be  again  on  the 
high  seas." 

Piccarda  lifted  her  lashes.  "Seas?  How 
seas  ? — you  go  to  Rome  ?  ' ' 

"  No — only  to  America.  We're  giving 
up  our  Italian  voyage.  I  think  my  mother 
seems  a  little  homesick.  And  I — I  shall  be 
glad,  too,  to  get  back." 

Piccarda  gathered  her  dark  furs  about  her 
as  if  she  had  grown  cold. 

"You  do  not  love  our  Italy,  then?"  she 
asked,  in  a  low  voice.  And  as  she  spoke 
some  flood  of  feeling  carried  an  unexpected 
word  to  Cabell's  lips. 

"  She  has  been  too  cruel  to  me,"  he  heard 
himself  saying,  passionately.  In  the  moment 


1 66  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

of  heavy  silence  following  this  outburst, 
when  Cabell  had  so  far  recovered  himself  as 
to  be  able  to  consider  the  force  of  what  he 
had  said,  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  eyes 
sounded  in  Piccarda's  a  depth  of  something 
like  sympathy,  or  at  least  comprehension. 
Then  she  rose  rather  abruptly,  glancing  at 
the  small  watch  which  she  wore  on  her 
wrist,  and  murmuring  :  "  After  all,  it  seems 
that  I  must  not  wait  any  longer.  Our  old 
Battista  is  not  well  to-day.  There  are 
things  I  must  stop  to  buy.  When  Battista 
is  ill  our  house  is  broken  up.  You  shall 
please  to  tell  Leilia  how  I  regret  to  miss 
her.  And  every  day  counts  now,  for  they, 
too,  are  soon  going  to  America. ' ' 

"  To  America  ? — Leilia  ?  ' ' 

"Both.  They  go  together."  She  held 
out  her  hand,  asking,  "  Shall  I  say  good-by 
now? — pas  encore?"  And  he  was  alone, 
listening  to  the  rustle  of  her  skirts  and  the 
lessening  sound  of  her  footsteps.  He  took  up 
the  book  she  had  dropped,  and  fell  into  med- 
itations upon  matters  which  did  not  precisely 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  167 

conform  themselves  to  the  printed  pages  be- 
fore him.  Then,  presently,  Leilia  and  Fan- 
ning came  in — Leilia,  all  in  black  with  some 
soft  veiling  against  her  cheeks,  glancing 
round  the  room  as  she  entered  it  in  a  certain 
involuntary  way,  as  if  she  might  still  see  some- 
where in  a  window  nook  a  childish  figure 
curled  up  over  a  book  ;  Fanning,  big  and 
broad  in  his  loose  clothes,  crying  out,  with 
something  of  his  old  heartiness,  "Hello, 
Dick  !  how  are  you,  eh  ?  " 

When  they  sat  down  to  talk  over  their 
general  departure,  Cabell  learned  that  his 
friends  were  not  taking  his  own  route  west- 
ward, but  intended  sailing  from  Havre  after 
a  month  in  Paris. 

"There  are  matters  to  settle  there,"  ex- 
plained Fanning,  "and  I've  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  my  affairs  are  not  so  press- 
ing but  that  I  can  take  time  from  them  if  I 
want  to.  Since  Leilia's  going  home  with 
me  time  doesn't  make  so  much  difference." 

Leilia  smiled  a  gentle,  absent  smile,  which 
touched  Cabell,  and  reassured  him.  Yet, 


1 68  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

afterward  as  he  crossed  the  piazza,  he  de- 
cided that  for  himself  it  would  be  intolera- 
ble to  have  to  nourish  life  upon  a  sentiment 
so  wasted  with  regret.  Mrs.  Cabell,  how- 
ever, upon  hearing  that  the  Fannings  were 
to  go  away  together,  fell  into  tremors  of 
gratification.  In  their  departure  together 
for  America  she  saw  an  evidence  of  full  and 
perfect  reconciliation. 

"For,"  she  admitted,  "though  I  have 
never  spoken  of  it,  I  suspected  that  there 
was  some  little  difference  between  them. 
You  know  what  my  divination  is,  Dick? 
While  no  one  else  dreamed  that  all  was  not 
well  with  Jim  and  Leilia,  I  had  surmised  a 
shade  of  misunderstanding.  It  never  really 
troubled  me,  though  ! — for  I  have  the  power, 
almost  terrible  at  times,  of  foreseeing  how 
things  are  going  to  turn  out.  And  I  felt 
that  perfect  happiness  lay  ahead,  that  every- 
thing would  be  well." 

"It  is,  any  way,  well  enough,"  said 
Cabell,  with  moderated  enthusiasm. 

"Yes,  dear.     If  I  could  only   feel    that 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  169 

poor  little  Piccarda's  future  was  as  hopeful ! 
But  I  have  grave  doubts.  And  my  lips  are 
sealed.  Between  you  and  Leilia  there  is 
nothing  for  me  to  do,  except  to  stand  by 
with  folded  hands  and  see  her  sacrificed  ! 
My  only  comfort  is  that,  as  Leilia  keeps 
reminding  me,  Piccarda  is  no  spiritless  lamb 
like  Anna  Bedell.  She  will  not  suffer 
mutely." 

"Well,  then,  don't  worry  over  it  all, 
mother!  " 

"I  can't  seem  to  help  it,  Dick.  Every- 
thing reminds  me." 

It  chanced  that  upon  the  next  day  some- 
thing occurred  to  bring  the  subject  rather 
forcibly  before  them  both.  They  had  taken 
their  usual  walk  through  the  gardens  along 
the  sea,  stopping  to  observe  how  the  trees 
were  freshening,  to  watch  the  daily  drill  of 
the  peasant  squad,  the  passage  of  an  occa- 
sional well-mounted  officer,  or  the  romping 
of  the  little  dark  children  in  charge  of  the 
beribboned  nurses  on  the  benches,  and  had 
come  to  the  end  of  the  green  strip,  into  the 


170  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

open  space  of  the  Largo  Vittoria.  Few 
vehicles  were  passing.  A  number  of  car- 
riages stood  along  the  curb  ;  a  knot  of  cab- 
men chatted  on  a  corner  ;  and  an  officer  of 
the  police,  in  picturesque  mantle,  stalked 
across  the  square.  A  half-grown  boy,  bare- 
footed, pale,  and  in  rags,  was  swinging  him- 
self between  two  rude  crutches  along  the 
crossing  of  the  street  beyond  the  villa.  He 
made  his  way  with  difficulty,  as  if  it  was 
new  to  him  to  be  helpless,  and  though  he 
did  not  seem  to  be  begging,  his  looks  were 
pitiful  enough  to  have  won  charity  from  a 
passer-by,  a  woman  plainly  dressed,  a  ser- 
vant, Cabell  thought,  carrying  a  little  cov- 
ered basket  on  her  arm. 

She  ran  after  the  boy,  and  pressed  some 
small  coins  upon  him,  and  had  regained  the 
sidewalk  when  a  very  dashing  equipage  ap- 
peared at  the  turn  of  the  street.  It  was  an 
exceedingly  smart  trap,  built  very  high,  and 
drawn  by  a  large  horse  of  a  delicate  russet 
tint,  precisely  matching  in  color  the  polished 
wood  of  the  cart.  The  animal,  from  its  size, 


ONE  OF  THE  V1SCONTI  171 

its  hue,  its  proud  gait,  had  the  look  of  a 
cast  in  pale  terra-cotta  of  an  antique  war- 
horse,  impressive  and  splendid.  In  observ- 
ing him,  Cabell  for  an  instant  failed  to  no- 
tice that  the  man  in  the  cart  was  Count 
Orsini,  accompanied  by  a  boy  whose  high 
cockaded  hat  and  majestically  folded  arms 
comported  with  the  expression  of  dignity 
on  his  small,  cockney  face. 

The  count  himself,  sitting  aloft,  with  his 
pointed  chin  and  upturned  mustache  bent 
toward  the  collar  of  a  top-coat  which  carried 
out  the  flat  yellowish  tones  of  horse  and  trap, 
looked  something  less  amiable  than  upon  the 
occasion  when  Cabell  had  last  seen  him.  In- 
deed, Cabell  had  just  thought  to  himself  that 
Orsini  suggested  the  patrician  end  of  a 
family  which  has  begun  to  lay  bases  for 
future  distinction  in  carrying  off  travellers 
for  ransom,  when  he  became  aware  that  the 
boy  with  the  crutches,  not  noticing  the 
cart,  was  swinging  himself  in  the  way  of  it. 
A  note  of  warning  rang  from  the  men  at  the 
corner.  But  Orsini,  neither  pausing  nor 


172  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

altering  his  course,  drove  on.  In  another 
instant  there  was  a  cry  of  fright,  a  clatter  of 
hoofs;  and  the  boy,  by  some  miracle  es- 
caping the  wheels,  was  thrown  in  a  terrified 
heap  on  the  stones,  with  his  poor  staffs  be- 
side him  in  splinters.  Meanwhile  the  yel- 
low horse,  wrinkling  his  superb  neck,  pur- 
sued his  way  across  the  piazza.  From  every- 
where rose  shouts  of  indignation,  and  there 
was  a  general  rush  to  the  middle  of  the 
square  where  the  boy  lay.  The  woman 
with  the  basket  was  already  beside  him, 
lifting  his  head,  motioning  the  throng  away 
that  air  might  reach  him;  but  the  count 
did  not  look  back  nor  in  any  way  concern 
himself  with  the  misadventure  he  had  caused 
till  the  guard  in  the  green-lined  mantle 
stopped  his  progress,  catching  his  horse  by 
the  resetted  bridle. 

Then  Orsini  frowned,  laughed,  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and,  turning,  flung  a 
handful  of  coins  back  toward  the  prostrate 
figure  in  the  road.  The  little  crowd  had 
moved  somewhat  away,  and  the  copper 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  173 

pieces,  dancing  over  the  stones,  struck,  sev- 
eral of  them,  upon  the  hands  of  the  kneeling 
woman.  At  the  touch  and  ring  of  the  money 
she  suddenly  lifted  her  head,  and  as  if  to  see 
the  better,  breathe  the  better,  put  aside  the 
dark  veil  binding  on  her  small,  simple  hat ; 
and  when  she  had  done  this  she  turned  and 
set  upon  the  man  who  looked  back  con- 
temptuously from  the  high-seated  cart,  a  face 
white  and  fixed,  a  glance  still  and  burning. 
And  as  he  caught  this  mute,  accusing  aspect, 
Orsini  flushed,  muttering  a  solitary  word. 

Cabell,  half  way  across  the  street,  intend- 
ing to  render  what  aid  he  might,  stopped 
short,  catching  his  breath.  For  he,  as  well 
as  the  count,  saw  suddenly  that  the  face  of 
the  girl  kneeling  in  the  road  was  the  face  of 
Piccarda  Visconti. 


XI 

CABELL  went  back  to  the  curb  where  his 
mother  stood.  It  had  come  upon  him  in 
the  moment  of  recognizing  Piccarda  that  his 
presence  might  only  add  to  her  embarrass- 
ments. He  saw  Orsini  spring  to  the  ground 
and  approach  the  little  throng ;  and  after 
this  no  more  of  the  scene  in  the  Largo  was 
apparent  to  him,  for  he  turned  from  it  and 
drew  his  mother  into  the  palmy  shade  of 
the  Villa. 

"Richard,"  said  Mrs.  Cabell,  with  un- 
usual calmness,  "  it  was  Piccarda." 

"  Yes.     It  was." 

"Their  old  servant  is  sick,  and  I  sup- 
pose she  had  to  fetch  something.  One 
thing ! — she  knows  now  what  the  count 
is  !  " 

"Yes.     If  she  cares  for  him  it  will  hurt 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  175 

her.  And  if  she  doesn't  it  will  make  things 
all  the  harder. ' ' 

"  Dick  ! — you — you  don't  believe  every- 
thing will  go  on  just  the  same?  " 

"  Quite  the  same.  Marriages  over  here, 
you  know,  in  families  of  consequence,  are 
not  arranged  upon  sentimental  grounds  ex- 
actly." 

"  But  she  must  certainly  condemn  such 
a  contemptible  thing  as  the  count  just  now 
did!  " 

"  There  isn't  much  doubt  of  her  condemn- 
ing it.  But  she  will  have  to  forgive,  or 
at  least  overlook  it.  I  can  foresee  clearly 
enough  just  what  will  happen,  just  how  this 
fellow  will  make  his  amends  and  apologies, 
just  how  Signor  Visconti  will  induce  his 
niece  to  acquiesce.  Though,  perhaps — poor, 
proud  little  soul ! — she  will  be  wise  enough 
to  dismiss  the  whole  affair  without  a  word, 
and  thus  save  herself  a  world  of  trouble.  She 
is  too  penetrating  not  to  see  in  this  inci- 
dent an  epitome  of  Orsini's  nature.  That  is 
what  tortures  me  !  I've  often  thought  lately 


176  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

that ' '  he  broke  off  short  and  pulled  his 

hat  over  his  eyes  a  little.  "  Here  I  am  doing 
just  what  I  am  always  beseeching  you  to  re- 
frain from  !  "  And  as  they  stopped  in  the 
half-circle  of  green  before  the  hotel,  he 
asked  :  "  Do  you  mind  if  I  go  on  walking  ? 
I  don't  feel  as  if  I  cared  to  go  in  the  house 
just  now." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Cabell,  "I  shall  not 
mind."  She  appeared  to  be  thinking,  and 
after  Cabell  had  gone  she  sat  down  on  one 
of  the  benches,  still  meditating.  Then  an 
air  of  resolution  disclosed  itself  in  her  soft, 
thin  lips  and  in  the  usually  mild  and  waver- 
ing glance  of  her  hazel  eyes. 

"Perhaps  they  have  even  now  begun  to 
persecute  that  poor,  motherless  child  !  ' '  she 
mused.  "  My  heart  misgives  me.  She 
should  not  stand  alone  in  this  hard  hour. 
Strong  and  determined  as  I  am,  I  should  be 
a  stay  and  refuge  to  her.  Her  uncle,  though 
he  seems  very  much  of  a  gentleman,  is,  after 
all,  only  an  Italian.  If  he  should  be  harsh 
with  her "  She  started  to  her  feet,  and 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  177 

summoned  a  little  open  carriage,  and  pres- 
ently after  alighted  before  the  yawning  arch- 
way of  the  Palazzo  Visconti,  in  a  street  that 
was  to-day  free  of  market-stalls,  with  only  a 
beggar  or  two  about,  and  a  few  gossiping 
women. 

No  one  was  in  sight  in  the  court  or  on 
the  staircase  or  the  upper  landing.  Old  Bat- 
tista's  illness  had  suspended  all  the  usual 
operations  of  the  house,  apparently  ;  and 
mounting  the  stone  steps,  Mrs.  Cabell,  led 
by  a  sound  of  voices,  found  herself  at  the 
threshold  of  the  cell-like  room  into  which 
the  orange-trees  looked. 

Here,  at  the  desk,  half  turned  in  a  big 
chair,  waving  his  hands  in  a  soothing,  dep- 
recatory way,  Signer  Visconti  sat  facing  his 
niece,  and  trying,  as  it  seemed  with  slight 
success,  to  calm  Piccarda,  and  stem  the  tide 
of  her  anger  and  excitement. 

She,  in  her  plain  frock  of  dark  stuff,  with 
her  hat  and  veil  beside  her  on  the  floor  in 
a  confusion  with  some  chiccory  and  a  little 
yellow  lobe  of  cheese  scattered  from  an  over- 


178  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

turned  basket,  had  fetched  up  breathless  in 
a  rush  of  words.  Her  face  was  flooded  with 
color,  her  lips  shook. 

"Che  ve'  di  diu  cattivo  ? "  she  cried; 
and  then  catching  sight  in  the  doorway  of 
Mrs.  Cabell,  uncertain  and  trembling,  she 
seized  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  and  drew  her 
into  the  room.  "It  is  my  good  friend,  "she 
said  to  her  uncle,  "  and  she  herself  has  seen 
all  this  I  tell  you  of! — all ! — for  just  when 
it  happened  I  have  observed  her  with  her 
son  upon  the  street.  Is  it  not  so,  Mrs.  Ca- 
bell ?  Oh,  I  have  told  my  uncle  what  he  is 
— this  miserable  creature  I  went  to  marry  ! 
— went,  yes  !  but  I  go  no  longer  to  do  so. 
Rather  I  should  I  die  first — much  as  I  should 
hate  to  die.  Scellerato  !  lo  scellerato  !  " 

"  My  child  !  my  dear  !  "  implored  Sig- 
nor  Visconti,  "  be  of  more  moderation  ! — 
it  is  nothing  —  this  matter,  nothing  —  a 
trifle!" 

"Nothing?  a  trifle?"  said  Piccarda, 
passionately.  "  Though  it  is  so  little  it  is 
enough.  If  he  had  only  thrust  a  harmless 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  179 

dog  away  cruelly,  meanly,  it  should  have 
told  me  the  kind  of  low  creature  he  was. 
But  to  trample  down  a  helpless  child,  and 
fling  his  money  into  that  poor,  fainting  face 
— Dio  mio  !  You  think  I  should  degrade 
myself  so  ?  to  be  wife — wife  to  such  as  he  ? 
Rather  I  should  die  first !  And  listen,  my 
uncle.  I  have  not  wished  to  be  his  wife 
even  when  I  believed  him  good.  It  is  true. 
But  I  have  told  myself,  '  He  is  of  honor,  even 
like  those  of  my  own  house,  he  loves  me 
much,  and  I  have  pity  for  the  little  Egisto, 
so  motherless  and  sweet.  And  it  pleased 
everyone  that  I  consent ;  why  then  should  I 
not  consent,  since  it  does  not  come  to  me, 

as  I    have  foolishly  dreamed,  to — to  make 

• 

a  marriage  of  love,  of  the  real  heart?  It 
is  reasoning  wisely  like  this  when  I  was  at 
Algiers  that  I  have  consented  ;  but  lately  I 
have  shed  many  tears.  Now  it  is  past.  I 
have  just  told  him,  simply,  without  anger — 
behold  how  calm  I  am  even  now  !  " — inter- 
polated Piccarda,  gasping,  shaking,  "  that 
I  wished  never  to  see  him  or  such  as  he 


i8o  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

again.  I  have  said  to  him — oh,  very  politely 
and  with  dignity — that  he  is  an  evil  beast." 
"And  he  is!"  broke  in  Mrs.  Cabell, 
holding  Piccarda's  flushed  face  against  her 
own  palpitating  heart,  "  though  I  don't 
know  that  I  should  have  used  just  such  an 
expression.  But  perhaps  it  doesn't  sound 
so  unladylike  in  Italian.  I,  Signer  Vis- 
conti,  I  have  been  quiet  too  long.  I  see  it 
now.  I  should  long  ago  have  told  this 
poor  child  what  Count  Orsini  was,  and 
how  shamefully  he  used  his  wife.  She  was 
born  and  raised  in  Jessamine  County — as 
sweet  and  lovely  a  girl  as  one  would  wish 
to  see — took  the  greatest  interest  in  charity 
work  and  young  people's  meetings.  And 
the  count  broke  her  heart,  and  sneered  at 
her  sufferings,  just  as  he  sneered  to-day — 
you  know,  Piccarda ! — at  the  boy  he  ran 
down  in  the  street.  Her  mother,  Mrs. 
Bedell — we  were  girls  together;  she  was 
Sally  Woodson — weeps  by  the  hour  when 
she  tells  how  the  count  ill-treated  Anna,  and 
never  came  near  her  when  she  was  dying, 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  181 

and  kept  all  her  money  and  the  baby  too. 
And  here  I've  sat  with  folded  hands,  and 
never  said  a  word  to  prevent  Piccarda  from 
marrying  this — this — creature — if  I  may 
say  so  !  Oh,  Piccarda,  can  you  forgive  your 
old  friend?" 

"  I  have  known  nothing  of  this,"  said 
Signor  Visconti.  "  I  go  never  to  Rome. 
But  I  had  thought  American  women  do  not 
usually  submit  to  be  greatly  mistreated.  I 
am  surprised,  oh,  deeply  surprised  !  The 
count  can  no  doubt  explain  why  his  wife's 
family  has  taken  offence." 

Piccarda  was  not  attending. 

"You!"  she  indicated  to  Mrs.  Cabell, 
"  you  who  knew  all  this  !  why  is  it  that  you 
have  not  told  me  ?  ' ' 

"I — I  wanted  to,"  faltered  Mrs.  Cabell. 
"But  my  son  thought  it  would  be  an  un- 
warrantable interference.  He — the  truth  is 
— he  would  not  consent " 

She  left  off  with  a  start,  for  Piccarda  had 
suddenly  drawn  back. 

"  He!"     exclaimed    the    girl    a    little 


182  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

breathlessly.  "  He  knew  I  should  marry 
such  a  man  ! — and  he  said  nothing.  He 
cared  nothing.  Ah  ! — ah  !  This  is  your 
American  idea  of  friendship  !  It  is  warm  ! 
yes  ! — as  snow  or  ice.  Men  are  not  so  dif- 
ferent, good  or  bad,  it  would  seem.  For 
me  I  shall  trust  no  more  in  any. ' ' 

"Piccarda!  don't  feel  so  unkindly  to- 
ward my  son  !  He  thought  it  would  be  for 
the  best " 

"  Oh,  I  understand." 

"Really,  Piccarda.  And  I  shall  be  very 
unhappy  if  you  are  going  to  misjudge  him." 

Piccarda  turned  to  the  window. 

"  After  all  it  will  not  matter  so  much.  I 
shall  not  see  him  again,  since  you  go  away 
this  week.  It  is  this  week,  is  it  not? " 

"Y — yes.  But  aren't  you  going  to  let 
him  come  to  say  good-by?" 

Piccarda  stooped  to  snap  a  leaf  from  an 
orange  branch  which  had  adventured  over 
the  window-sill.  "I  fear,"  she  said, 
"that  it  will  not  be  possible.  You  see, 
dear  Mrs.  Cabell,  it  is  like  this  :  I  am  dis- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  183 

turbed,  much  disturbed,  by  all  that  has  hap- 
pened to-day.  And  for  a  time  it  will  be 
best  for  me  to  see  few  people ;  none,  in- 
deed, except  those  that  I  care  for — my  good 
friends.  I — I  am  sorry." 

Mrs.  Cabell's  appealing  hand  fell,  and 
she  drew  herself  up  to  a  height  of  great  dig- 
nity. 

"  Good-by,  then,  Piccarda,"  she  said, 
with  a  little  tremor  of  resentment.  "  Good- 
by." 

But  Piccarda  wheeled  about,  and  kissed 
the  other's  soft  drab  hair  impetuously. 
"You  and  I!"  she  cried,  "we  cannot 
part  like  this.  I  love  you  too  well !  " 

When  Mrs.  Cabell  returned  to  the  hotel, 
and  sat  down  to  think  over  her  morning 
visit  to  the  Palazzo  Visconti,  she  began  to 
realize  that  it  had  resulted  in  little  upon 
which  she  could  congratulate  herself. 
Gradually,  too,  it  became  evident  that  duty 
required  her  to  divulge  to  her  son  the  man- 
ner in  which  she  had  ignored  his  wishes. 
The  confession  would  not  be  pleasant,  nor 


1 84  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

would  it  be  agreeable  to  relate  to  him  that 
Piccarda  did  not  count  him  among  those 
whom  she  held  in  friendly  esteem ;  but  Mrs. 
Cabell  felt  that,  however  uncomfortable  the 
situation  might  be,  she  could  not  hesitate  to 
face  it. 

Accordingly,  a  day  or  so  later,  she  told 
Cabell  all  that  had  passed  in  the  little  stone 
room  of  the  Palazzo.  He  listened  with 
deep  interest  to  the  story  of  Piccarda' s 
denunciation  of  the  count,  and  his  face 
seemed  to  brighten  as  the  recital  went  on  ; 
but  as  his  mother  pressed  forward  to  Pic- 
carda's  denunciation  of  himself,  he  lost 
countenance,  and  bit  his  lip,  and  rose,  and 
began  to  pace  the  floor. 

"  I  was  quite  offended,  Richard,  and  per- 
haps I  said  more  than  was  consistent  with 
dignity,  in  trying  to  persuade  her  that  it 
was  unjust  of  her  to  speak  of  you  so — so 
inconsiderately." 

"Never  mind,  mother.  She  has  her 
point  of  view.  Of  course,  it  isn't  precisely 
pleasant  to  know  that  from  it  I  appear  con- 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  185 

temptible !   but  I  shall  have  to  submit,  it 
seems. ' ' 

Nothing  more  was  said  regarding  the  mat- 
ter until  the  following  day,  when  Leilia  and 
her  husband  came  to  the  hotel  for  a  visit  of 
leave-taking.  Then  Fanning,  seating  him- 
self, said  :  "Well!  I  suppose  you've  heard 
that  it's  all  over  between  this  Orsini  fel- 
low and  our  little  friend?  —  deuced  good 
thing,  too.  Signorina  Visconti  wouldn't 
have  been  so  long  left  in  ignorance  of 
the  count's  character  and  antecedents  if 
I  had  known  sooner  as  much  about  them 
as  I  do  now."  And  directing  a  keen 
eye  upon  Cabell,  he  repeated,  in  a  tone 
of  encouraging  cordiality  :  "  Yes,  it's  all 
off.  And  we're  the  first  to  profit  by  it ! 
— for  Piccarda's  going  with  us  to  Paris, 
to  stay  a  month.  I  got  permission  my- 
self from  the  old  fellow — her  uncle,  you 
know.  He's  rather  glum  over  the  matter ; 
says  Orsini 's  a  lamb,  and  that  Piccarda 
will  live  to  regret  her  foolish  obstinacy. 
He's  tremendously  fond  of  her,  though. 


1 86  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

When  I  told  him  she  was  looking  pale  and 
flimsy,  and  that  my  wife  and  I  both  thought 
a  change  of  air  and  scene  would  be  good  for 
her,  why,  he  got  quite  scared,  and  I  hadn't 
much  trouble  in  persuading  him  to  let  her 
accompany  us.  We  start  in  the  morning." 

Cabell  felt  sick  and  hopeless  as  he  lis- 
tened. He  rose  with  as  careless  an  air  as 
he  could  manage,  and  with  pocketed  hands, 
stood  staring  miserably  out  upon  the  bright- 
ness of  the  sea.  Presently  Leilia  rose  also, 
and  came  toward  the  window  ;  and  as  she 
faced  him  in  the  green  shade  of  the  heavy 
rep  curtains,  and  saw  the  gloomy  fixity  of 
his  eyes,  she  asked,  quietly:  "Have  you 
and  Piccarda  fallen  out  ? ' ' 

"Why?" 

"  Just  now,  when  we  spoke  of  you  to  her, 
I  thought  she  seemed — a — little " 

"  Uninterested?" 

"No;  but  perhaps  a  trifle  less  cordial 
than  she  is  usually.  What  have  you  done  ? ' ' 

"  Only  what  you  did :  kept  quiet  con- 
cerning Orsini.  Has  she  forgiven  you?  " 


-      ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  187 

"  She  doesn't  know  yet  that  I  knew  about 
him.  I  shall  break  it  to  her  by  degrees. 
You  see  I  shall  have  plenty  of  opportunities 
to  make  my  peace  with  her." 

"Yes." 

"Dick! — all  this  is  a  great  pity  ! — such 
friends  as  you  were !  I'm  not  willing  to 
have  you  go  away  with  so  changed  an  idea 
of  Piccarda.  See  here !  do  you  want  to 
see  her  once  more  ? — perhaps  to  talk  with 
her  a  little?" 

"  No.  Because  I  have  nothing  to  say. 
Though  if  it  were  merely  a  question  of  set- 
ting eyes  upon  her  again — bright  and  beau- 
tiful as  she  is " 

"  Because  I  know  exactly  where  she  is  at 
this  minute,  cousin.  As  we  left  the  Palazzo 
a  little  while  ago  she  was  starting  for  church 
— to  pray,  I  believe,  for  a  safe  voyage  to 
Paris,  and  give  her  favorite  Madonna  a  votive 
heart  of  silver,  all  neatly  beaded  round  the 
edges,  in  token  of  gratitude  for  being  deliv- 
ered from  the  count ! — poor  Orsini !  he  was 
very  agreeable.  You  know  the  cathedral  ? 


1 88  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

Piccarda  worships  in  one  of  the  chapels 
there.  I  don't  know  which  one.  And  I 
feel  a  sort  of  traitor  in  telling  you  all  this  ! 
Do  as  you  like,  Dick.  Jim  and  I  are  going 
away  directly." 

After  she  and  her  husband  had  departed, 
Cabell  had  a  moment  of  thought.  He  de- 
cided that  there  was  no  good  reason  why  he 
should  not  act  upon  Leilia's  suggestion.  His 
mute  observance  of  Piccarda,  kneeling  in 
prayer  before  some  aged  altar,  could  not 
reach  her  consciousness  or  add  to  her  re- 
sentment. 

"  And  it  will  give  me  something  to  hoard 
forever,"  he  pursued,  thinking  of  the  picture 
he  had  conjured  up. 

The  distance  to  the  Cathedral  seemed  in- 
terminable, though  the  carrozzella  Cabell  had 
selected  whirled  swiftly  enough  along  the 
wide  and  narrow  streets  which  had  come  to 
look  so  familiar  to  him  in  their  vivid  and 
varying  scenes.  A  region  of  fish-stalls,  with 
woven  trays  full  of  silvery,  wriggling  things, 
which  leaped  in  the  sunlight  under  the  wicker 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  189 

prongs  of  the  dealer's  fork ;  a  place  where 
beautiful  blue  water  bottles  and  fantastic 
shapes  of  shining  crystals  were  ranged  for 
sale  along  the  cobblestones ;  curbs  piled 
with  oranges  in  accurate  pyramids ;  a  pass- 
ing funeral  with  empty  coffin  borne  aloft  in 
rich  draperies  and  papery  garlands  of  pink 
and  white ;  a  woman  who  sat  on  the  pave- 
ment weeping  like  a  child,  as  she  viewed  the 
fragments  of  the  bottle  of  oil  she  had  let 
slip  from  her  careless  fingers;  here  a  shrine 
lighted  dimly  with  a  smoking  lamp  ;  there  a 
beggar  uttering  a  monotonous  lament ;  every- 
where noise  and  sunshine,  ruinous  churches 
and  hundreds  of  little  shops  bearing  the  in- 
scription, "Banco  Lotto."  These  sights 
struck  vaguely  upon  Cabell's  eye,  and  he 
had  a  sense  of  relief  when  at  last  the  Cathe- 
dral, with  its  facade  all  latticed  in  scaffold- 
ing, came  in  sight,  with  a  beggar  waiting, 
as  usual,  to  lift  the  soiled  blanketing  over 
the  door. 

It  was  dark,  damp,  and  unutterably  silent 
in  the  lofty  place.     Afar  off,  where  the  great 


190  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

altar  rose  against  an  arch  of  dim  bluish  glass 
and  a  grotto-like  arrangement  of  brown 
saints  and  seraphim,  a  few  priests  were  mov- 
ing, mere  whitish  flecks  in  their  crinkled 
surplices.  After  a  moment,  tiny  spots  of 
orange  color  disclosed  themselves  as  flames 
upon  a  dozen  tapers  ;  gtenpses  of  figures 
stole  from  the  remote  shadows  of  the  painted 
ceiling;  and  the  late  sun,  slanting  through 
some  high,  unseen  windows,  speared  the  old 
walls  with  dazzling  streaks  of  amber  and 
crimson  and  gold,  and  shot  a  green  lustre 
from  the  massive  pillars,  and  fell  in  plain, 
unbeautiful  blotches  upon  a  floor  paved  with 
worn  and  sunken  black  and  white.  Only  a 
few  people  were  to  be  seen,  wandering  aim- 
lessly about  the  vast  expanse,  crossing  them- 
selves before  altars,  and  bending  a  casual 
knee  as  they  passed  on. 

Cabell  evaded  the  solicitude  of  an  aged 
sacristan,  who  desired  to  show  him  the  old 
vaults  below,  where  signs  and  symbols  of  the 
pagan  gods  mingle  so  peacefully  with  the 
tokens  of  a  later  system  of  religion.  He 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  191 

proceeded  forward  under  the  heavy  green 
columns,  listening  to  the  faint,  far  intona- 
tions of  the  priests,  smelling  the  holy  odors 
of  the  burning  incense,  and  glancing  into 
the  chapels  opening  on  his  right  a  sweep  of 
faded  painting  and  brilliant  mosaic. 

One  of  these  was  so  dark  that  the  young 
man,  believing  it  empty,  stepped  a  little  past 
the  threshold,  intending  to  see  if  perhaps  a 
new  silver  heart  with  a  beaded  edge  adorned 
any  shrine  within.  And  as  he  did  so,  a 
woman  who  had  been  kneeling  on  the  stones, 
below  the  ruddy,  indefinite  rays  of  a  swing- 
ing Byzantine  lamp,  rose  as  if  to  depart,  and 
bent  herself  in  a  final  devotion.  Turning, 
she  paused  rather  suddenly  ;  and  from  her 
hand  a  thread  of  carven  beads  fell  upon  the 
cracked  marble  floor. 

Cabell  stooped,  and  gathered  up  the  fall- 
en rosary  with  its  little,  glimmering  cross  of 
thin  silver. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  intrude  upon  you 
like  this,"  he  said,  "though  I  can't  deny 
that  I  knew  you  were  here.  Since  you 


192  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

would  not  let  me  come  to  say  good-by  to 
you,  I — I  suppose  I  felt  myself  justified  in 
taking  at  least  a  silent  farewell."  He  add- 
ed, after  a  trying  silence,  "  Will  you  pardon 
me  for  this  ?  ' ' 

Piccarda's  face,  in  the  quiet  twilight  of 
the  chapel,  was  as  white  and  shining  as  the 
little  cross  dropping  from  her  slender  hands. 
She  seemed  to  have  been  weeping — perhaps 
tears  of  thankfulness  —  before  the  Virgin 
who  had  worked  her  deliverance  from  a 
union  with  the  count.  Her  voice  was  some- 
what unsteady  as  she  said,  "  If  I  sent  you 
word  not  to  come,  it  was  because  I  felt  that 
you  had  not  been  truly  the  friend  I  thought 
you." 

"You  were,  so  far,  right,"  Cabell  said. 
"  I  wasn't  a  friend  at  all.  I  was  a  lover  ! — 
and  while  I  didn't  know  anything  of  a 
positive  nature  about  the  count,  I  knew 
very  well  where  I  stood  myself.  It  was  dis- 
tinctly no  affair  of  mine,  your  acceptance 
of  Orsini  ;  what  concerned  me,  was  to  act 
with  as  much  dignity  as  a  man  may  manage 


ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI  193 

in  such  straits."  He  drew  up,  but  as  Pic- 
carda  did  not  lift  her  eyes,  he  resumed,  hur- 
riedly, "  In  spite  of  my  better  judgment 
I  have  told  you  that  I  love  you.  I  do.  I 
shall  always,  I  think.  But  I  had  no  right  to 
speak  of  it." 

Piccarda  did  not  look  up,  but  she  said,  in 
a  lowered  voice,  '"  Why?  " 

"  Oh,  you  know  why  !  "  he  smiled  rather 
sadly.  "  Silence  is  the  only  respectable 
course  for  a  man  whose  fortunes,  and  talents, 
and  prospects  are  alike  obscure,  and  who 
has  presumed  to  love  a  lady  such  as  you — 
beautiful  and  noble."  He  added,  almost 
sharply,  "  Oh,  Piccarda  !  Let  me  kiss  your 
hands  before  I  go  ! — here,  with  the  little 
blessed  rosary  in  them  !  Let  me  take  away 
that  memory !  ' ' 

"  It  is  a  holy  place  for  a  farewell,"  mur- 
mured she.  "  Good-by,  then.  And  you 
may  kiss  my  hands,  if  you  wish — since  it  is 
only  for  the  memory.  But  there  is  some- 
thing else  you  shall  remember,  too !  It  is 
very  true,  no  doubt,  what  you  have  said — 


194  ONE  OF  THE  VISCONTI 

that  I  am  beautiful,  and  illustrious,  and — a-  d 
all  that !  But  I  am  one  other  thing  that  you 
have  not  mentioned,  that  you  do  not  seem 
to  know — I  am  the  woman  who  loves  you. ' ' 

She  gave  a  little  sob  as  he  cried  out,  and 
clasped  her  hands,  trembling,  repeating  her 
name  over  ana  over. 

"  Piccarda  !.  is  it  so  ?  is  it  so? — my  heart ! 
my  life !  Do  you  mean  that  for  me  you 
will  leave  your  Italy  ? — the  land  you  love  so 
well? — for  me,  Piccarda? — for  me?  " 

Piccarda  lifted  a  smiling,  flushing  face. 

"lam  greatly  interested  in  America!" 
she  said,  demurely. 


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ON  EOF  THE 
VISCONTI 


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